r 


E605 
.S27 
1905a 


Saxon,  Elizabeth  Lyle, 

1832-1915. 
A  southern  woman's  war 

time  reminiscences  / 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 

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UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


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DATE 
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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

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j{  Southern  fl/oman's 

War  Xjime  {Reminiscences 


S8y 


97frs.  Slizabeth  jCj/le  Saxon 

&or  the  benefit  oftJSjt' 

ohiioh   7/fonument  J'und 


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THEUNiVE  ,  flTH  CAROLINA 

.  .  .   ELI  iiLL 


. 

■<■■■ 

■ 

■    \ 

-. 


PRES3   OF   THE 

PILCHER    PRINTING   CO. 

MEMPHIS,  TENN. 

1905. 


Si 


Library   Univ."  o 
m      NorrhXaWiii* 


DEDICATION. 


This  little  volume  is  dedicated 
to 
The  J.  Harvey  Mathes  Chapter 
of 
the  Daughters  of  the   Confederacy 
by  one  who  is  proud  to  have 
been  the  friend  of  the  good 
man   and   brave   sol- 
dier for  whom  it 
was  named. 


i 


. 


' 


1 


^Tljt  Wallsxtx 

;  -    %}  ■  VIRGINIA  FRAZER  BOYLE, 

■$?|C*TCs  the  beat  of  the  drum,  'tis  the  reveille 
j     From  the  camp  and  the  field  of  the  Past; 
Tis  an  echo  that  rolls  to  the  warrior  years 
■:'.-:  Of  the  sound  of  a  bugle  blast. 

•v       'Tis  the  clashing  of  steel  and  the  bayonet's  gleam 
V1         That  glints  on  the  ambient  air, 

And  the  Southern  Cross,  with  its  starry  field, 
Sweeps  the  breeze  like  a  patriots  prayer, 

'Tis    the    charging    of    Death    where  Justice 

drooped 
On  her  altar  bathed  in  blood; 
'Tis  the  baying  of  guns,  like  the  hounds  un  - 

leashed, 
That  swells  on  the  breast  of  the  flood, 

'Tis  the  storm  that  breaks  thro*  the  mist  and 
the  rime, 
And  the  clouds  drop  their  leaden  hail; 
'Tis  the  "Rebel  Yell,"  through  the  pattering 
rain, 
From  the  souls  that  could  never  quail ! 

(Continued  on  Neit  Page). 


Continued. 

Yea,  the  steel  meets  heart  and  the  heart  greets 

steel 
In  the  passions  of  hate — of  death, 

And   they   fall  in  the  lines  like  the  wind 

swung  grain 
At  the  sweep  of  the  sickle's  breath, 

And  the  riderless  horses  charge,  unreined, 
Through  the  din  of  the  cannon's  blast; 

And  the  horseless  riders  have  closed  the  line 
Where  the  mowing  scythe  has  passed. 

But  the  carnage  dies,  and  the  day  falls  asleep 
Where  the  west  draws  her  golden  bars, 

And  the  smoke  that  has  kissed  both  the  blue 
and  the  gray 
Has  left  them  alone — with  the  stars, 

Tis  the  hush  cf  the  night — 'tis    the   drum's 
tattoo — 
'Tis  the  roll-call,  deep  and  clear, 
And  the  mounds  that  billow  the  grassy  slope, 
'Neath  the  violets,  answer  "Here! " 
*> 


War  Time  Reminiscences. 


JUST  BEFORE  THE  WAR. 

TURN  in  review  to  the  years,  so  rife  with 
interest,  just  preceding  the  war.  In  1855  my 
husband  went  into  business  in  New  York 
City,  and  I,  with  my  two  eldest  children,  ac- 
companied him.  It  seems  but  yesterday  that  we 
strolled  together  through  the  old  historic  precincts  of 
Neve  York.  I  used  to  sit  in  Trinity  churchyard  for 
hours  while  my  children  played  among  the  tombs, 
scratching  the  moss  from  the  letters,  and  I  wrote  or 
studied,  surrounded  by  the  noise  and  clamor  of  trade, 
but  as  much  alone  as  if  in  the  heart  of  a  forest.  There, 
during  the  earlier  part  of  our  residence,  I  wrote  my 
press  letters  and  read.  Later  we  moved  up  town,  in 
the  very  heart  of  the  city,  where  we  were  living  when 
the  events  preceding  the  war  begun  to  shape  them- 
selves into  such  ominous  foreshadowings. 

Our  summers  were  spent  in  the  city,  our  winters 
in  the  South.  In  1858  we  had  for  our  companion  much 
of  the  time  a  most  beautiful  Boston  girl,  whose  father 
had  spent  all  his  life  in  Mexico.  He  had  come  on  to 
Boston  and  was  carrying  his  daughter  to  Mexico  to 
make  a  trade  in  a  silver  mine,  she  to  be  a  part  of  the 
stock  in  trade,  as  wife  of  Don  Josie  Patillo,  59  years 
old.  The  whole  party  was  stopping  at  our  hotel.  A 
gallant  black-haired  friend  of  ours  fell  desperately  in 
love  with  her,  and  carried  off  this  lily  of  loveliness 
right  in  the  face  of  the  swearing  old  pirate,  her  father, 
and  Don  Josie.  The  excitement  over  the  matter  in  our 
hotel  was  about  equal  to  two  fires  and  a  murder,  and  I 
was  pounced  upon  for  helping  it  on. 

The  father  was  obliged  to  leave  his  daughter  in  New 
York,  and  Don  Josie  returned  to  Mexico  without  his 
bride.  About  eight  years  ago,  when  speaking  before 
a  large  audience  in  Texas,  I  saw  Nell  for  the  first  time 


10  WAR   TBIE    REMINISCENCES. 

since  before  the  war.  She  was  surrounded  by  a  bevy  < 
of  girls,  all  grown,  and  each  one  as  lovely  as  the  / 
mother  had  been  in  her  girlish  beauty. 

For  some  two  years  after  her  marriage  Nell  and  I 
were  much  together.     "We  visited  the  Great  Easterr 
and  danced  on  the  magnificent  declc,  nearly  eighty  ««.  ' 
feet  wide.     "Oh,  those  diamond  mornings   of  long  :*. 
ago !"    It  was  there  we  were  so  rejoiced  over  the  first 
message  by  the  Atlantic  cable,  and  we  were  all  going; . 
about  wearing  bits  of  the  «able  set  in  gold,  on  our 
watch  chains,  or  lugging  it  about  as  a  valuable  relic.     ,' 
There  I  first  knew  Peter  Cooper. 

In  1860  events  crowded  fast  upon  each  other.  I  had 
a  most  singular  experience  in  connection  with  the  Chi- 
cago Zouaves  led  by  young  Ellsworth.  They  came  to 
New  York  and  challenged  any  company  in  America 
to  drill  with  them.  Crowds  went  out  to  see  them 
every  day,  and  it  was  on  one  of  these  occasions  that 
Nell,  my  Boston  friend,  and  I  were  standing  watching 
them  as  they  wheeled  and  charged,  fired  with  their 
guns  kneeling,  lying  or  running.  I  was  looking  at 
the  young  commander  very  intently  when  suddenly 
a  haze  swept  before  my  eyes,  and,  as  if  in  a  mirror,  I 
saw  him  fall,  shot  dead.  I  gave  a  scream  of  horror,  and 
my  companion  shook  my  arm — the  vision  was  gone. 
He  was  alive  and  unhurt.  I  told  what  I  saw,  and  de- 
clared positively  that  nothing  could  convince  me  he 
would  not  die  a  violent  death.  It  will  be  remembered 
that  he  was  shot  early  in  the  war  at  Alexandria,  for 
taking  down  the  Confederate  flag  over  a  hotel,  Jack- 
son, its  proprietor,  firing  the  fatal  shot. 

Men  sneer  at  such  statements  as  this.  My  own  im- 
pression, founded  on  my  own  experience,  is  that  all 
spirituality  is  as  far  as  possible  killed  in  children  by 
their  parents,  owing  to  education  and  preconceived 
sentiments.  We  admit  man  is  possessed  of  five  senses, 
and  if  anything  savoring  of  a  higher  or  more  subtle 


:  v 


JUST    BEFORE    THE    WAR.  11 

sense  is  shown,  instantly  it  is  deemed  uncanny,  un- 
natural, and  must  be  repressed. 

Time  will,  aided  by  science  and  unfettered  by  big- 
otry ,"p  rove  my  statement  true,  that  one,  if  not  two 
or,  more,  senses  remain  undeveloped  in  the  human, 
^ .and  are  perfectly  natural  ones. 

It  would  be  well  for  women  to  realize  this,  for  in 
the  advance  along  this  line,  as  shown  in  experiments 
now  being  made  in  hypnotism,  woman  in  her  weakness 
is  ever  to  be  made  the  victim  unless  she  strives  for 
individuality,  and  learns  the  difficult  lesson,  "know 

thyself." 

Shortly  after  the  Chicago  Zouaves  made  their  chal- 
lenge it  was  accepted  by  the  Columbus  (Ga.)  Guards, 
and  immediately  after  the  Seventh  Regiment  enter- 
tained the  Savannah  Eepublican-Blues,  and  held  with 
them  a  competitive  drill. 

The  brothel's  B.  and  B.  M.  "Whitlock  gave  a  grand 
entertainment  to  them  up  the  Hudson,  where  my 
"lovely  Nell"  and  I  were  in  attendance.  In  a  letter 
home  I  used  this  language :  "It  seems  to  me  as  if  our 
people  were  militar}*-mad,  and  had  rushed  together 
for  a  last  fraternal  embrace,  to  separate  and  fight 
like  maddened  devils;  so  violent  do  altercations  and 
argument  come  when  the  questions  of  slavery,  free 
soil,  etc.,  are  discussed."  And  when  I  went  South 
some  of  my  friends  dubbed  me  the  "bloody  prophet." 

It  was  in  1S60  the  Prince  of  "Wales  was  in  New 
York,  and  I  well  remember  how  Ave  tore  around  to  get 
a  sight  of  the  beardless  youth ;  then  laughed  at  our 
foolishness  when  it  was  over;  but  we  had  plenty  of 
company,  for  the  poor  fellow  must  have  had  exalted 
ideas  of  our  reverence  and  admiration  for  royalty. 
The  Japanese  embassy,  with  "Tommy,"  the  young 
high  caste  Japanese,  was  there  in  I860,  and  the  amuse- 
ment we  had  when  we  found  out  that  in  the  twenty 
carriages  containing  him  and  his  suite,  "the  cook,  the 


12  WAR    TIME  REMINISCENCES. 

baker  and  the  candlestick  maker,"  were  all  honored 
just  as  was  the  prince,  for  not  only  did  they  bring 
their  cook,  but  their  food,  with  them,  and  the  highest 
New  York  women  went  wild  over  the  almond-eyed 
young  "Tommy,"  until  one  day,  made  bold  by  so 
much  attention,  he  began  kissing  their  bare  shoulders 
right  and  left,  creating  as  much  consternation  as  a 
hawk  in  a  barnyard. 


BROTHER  AGAINST   BROTHER.  13 

II. 

BROTHER    AGAINST     BROTHER. 

WHEN  my  husband's  business  demanded  his 
of  1860,  I  remained  with  my  children,  in 
presence  in  the  South,  during  the  summer 
the  family  of  a  famous  New  York  physician  whose 
sentiments  were  of  the  most  anti-slavery  character. 
Two  young  men,  students,  were  domiciled  beneath 
•  his  roof.  While  our  opinions  were  stoutly  maintained, 
we  never  quarreled,  and  it  seemed  to  be  the  policy  of 
the  household  to  "laugh  and  grow  fat."  Mrs.  B.,  the 
doctor's  wife,  was  a  model  cook  and  housekeeper, 
and  we  spent  our  time  in  every  part  of  the  house, 
from  garret  to  kitchen,  as  freely  and  happily  as  possi- 
ble. 

On  one  occasion  dinner  was  to  be  given  on  the 
anniversary  of  the  college,  and  our  newly  graduated 
young  M.  D.  (now  a  prominent  physician  in  Syra- 
cuse. N.  Y.)  urged  me  to  give  him  a  sentiment  for  a 
toast,  it  being  before  the  days  when  individuals  were 
appointed  and  subjects  arranged  for  the  guests.  After 
exacting  from  him  a  solemn  pledge  to  give  the  toast 
as  I  worded  it.  I  gave  the  following — seeing  that  "The 
Ladies"  always  had  to  be  lugged  in  on  such  occasions, 
although  barred  out  personally:  "Here's  to  the 
ladies.  God  bless  them !  Their  ignorance  furnishes  us 
our  carriages  to  ride  in  and  rills  our  pockets  with 
money.    Long  may  it  last." 

On  the  morning  after  this  dinner,  as  I  went  into 
the  dining  room,  I  heard  the  young  doctor,  who  had 
entered  just  before  me,  laughing  as  only  he  could 
laugh. 

""What  is  it?"  I  cried.  "No  laughing  here  unless 
I  share  it." 


14  WAR    TDfE    REMINISCENCES. 

"We  were  laughing  over  the  success  of  your  toast, 
that  Mr. —  gave,"  said  Dr.  B. 

"And  he  gave  it,  did  he?"  cried  I.  "How  was  it 
received?" 

"Applauded  it  to  the  echo,"  was  his  answer. 

"And  why  applauded,  doctor?    Pray  tell  me." 

"Because  every  man  of  them  knew  it  was  true," 
was  his  unflattering  answer.  •:.~-  ,  < 

I  will  not  try  to  give  anything  of  the  argument 
that  followed  this,  but  it  closed  with  a  statement 
about  like  this  from  the  old  doctor  : 

' '  We  have  the  power,  the  honor,  the  money.  Women 
have  not— and  we  intend  to  hold  our  own." 

I  recall  my  many  tongue  battles  in  favor  of  woman, 
and  the  shame  of  her  repression,  especially  her  need 
for  physicians  of  her  own  sex,  and  I  really  think  the 
hardest  and  meanest  things  I  ever  had  to  hear  were 
spoken  on  this  question. 

I  rarely  failed  during  the  fall  and  winter  of  I860 
to  attend  the  public  meetings  so  frequently  held.  It 
was  then  I  listened  to  so  many  eloquent  divines  pound- 
ing and  slapping  the  Bible,  and  proving  with  learned 
discussion  and  many  quotations  that  slavery  was  a 
"God-ordained  institution,  and  should  for  that  reason 
be  preserved. ' ' 

Southern  in  every  vein  and  fiber  of  being  though  I 
was,  I  gloried  in  the  unflinching  courage  shown  by 
Wendell  Phillips  and  Henry  Ward  Beecher  on  this 
subject,  for  I  saw  slavery  in  its  bearing  upon  my  sex. 
I  saw  that  it  teemed  with  injustice  and  shame  to  all 
womankind,  and  I  hated  it. 

In  November  of  1860  I  went  up  to  West  Point  to 
visit  some  of  the  college  students :  my  husband  having 
a  young  relative  there  from  South  Carolina. 

I  found  the  school  in  a  femient  of  unrest  and  dis- 
content. The  boys  of  the  two  sections  were  at  daggers' 
points  in  discussions,  and  those  I  was  interested  in 
were  wild  to  return  home. 


BROTHER  AGAINST   BROTHER.  15 

On  December  20th,  1860,  the  State  of  South  Caro- 
lina seceded  from  the  Union.  I  left  New  York  the 
last  of  December,  and  went  out  to  Savannah  by 
steamer,  Several  of  the  boys  from  "West  Point  going 
then.  It  was  still  hoped  that  the  example  of  South 
.  Carolina  would  not  be  followed  by  the  other  Southern 
-•States.   .■"'"•- 

■•*['  It  was  near  this  time  that  the  wonderful  spectacle 
j>pf  the  Aurora  Borealis  was  seen  in  the  Gulf  States. 
/.^The  whole  sky  was  a  ruddy  glow  as  if  from  an  enor- 
,Ynious  conflagration,  but  marked  by  the  darting  rays 
/'peculiar  to  the  Northern  light.  It  caused  much  sur- 
prise, and  aroused  the  fears  even  of  those  far  from 
superstitious.     . 

I  remember  an  intelligent  old  Scotch  lady  said  to 
.  me, ' '  Oh,  child,  it  is  a  terrible  omen ;  such  lights  never 
burn,  save  for  kings'  and  heroes'  deaths." 

As  long  as  I  live— for  the  years  have  not  dimmed 
the  memory — I  shall  recall  with  a  sickening  pain,  the 
excitement  and  distress  among  the  people.  On  our 
landing  at  Savannah  it  seemed  as  if  the  very  air  was 
ablaze  with  some  terrible  unseen  flame.  Nothing 
could  be  quiet.  Men  and  women  were  flying  every- 
where, the  Southerner  to  the  South,  the  Northerner  to 
the  North.  Men  and  women  who,  far  gone  with  con- 
sumption, had  come  to  seek  lost  health  in  the  genial 
air  of  the  South,  pale,  emaciated  and  weary,  were  try- 
ing to  reach  home  before  something  happened  to  hin- 
der them. 

The  very  indefiniteness  of  the  situation  was  its  most 
painful  feature ;  few  knew  what  to  do. 

Many  men  realized  that  they  were  financially  ruined 
if  things  came  to  a  crisis,  and  how  to  prevent  fanatics 
from  both  sections  precipitating  events  was  the  effort 
of  the  conservatives. 

The  sentiments  of  many  were  strong  for  the  Union 
until  hostilities  became  active.     Then  every  one  was 


16  WAR   TIME   REMINISCENCES. 

compelled  to  decide  for  or  against  the  South;  to  re- 
main neutral  seemed  almost  impossible,  from  many 
causes.  For  quite  a  while  men  gave  free  voice  to  their 
disaffection  and  sympathy  with  the  Union,  but  over- 
whelmed by  the  voice  of  numbers  wild  with  excite- 
ment, declaring  it  dangerous  in  the  midst  of  existing 
conditions  to  voice  such  sentiments^  one  after  another 
became  silent.  And  let  every  man  and  woman  remem- 
ber'this :  We  lived,  as  it  were,  over  a  powder  maga- 
zine that  a  careless  word  might  arouse  as  a  spark 
would  powder ;  and  it  meant  ruin  to  many.  I  think, 
as  after  events  proved,  this  was  an  exaggerated  fear, 
though  how  much  it  helped  to  curb  and  keep  in  check 
the  more  brutal  instincts  of  the  negroes  no  man  can 
tell.  It  was  actions  growing  out  of  this  condition  of 
things  that  made  my  life  a  living  fever  of  dread  dur- 
ing the  two  weary  years  I  remained  in  Alabama, 
Brought  up  in  the  little  town,  I  loved  all  its  inhabit- 
ants as  if  they  were  literally  "my  own  people,"  and  I 
knew  the  underlying  Union  sentiment  of  many  a 
silent-voiced  man,  compelled  to  go  to  war  or  furnish 
a  substitute,  and  it  seemed  to  me  a  cruelty,  aye,  a 
needless  cruelty,  to  make  these  men  suffer  afterwards 
for  such  aid  furnished.  It  was  tantamount  to  "we'll 
scald  you  if  you  don't,  and  we'll  burn  you  if  you  do." 
If  hell  can  furnish  a  more  horrible  condition  than  fell 
to  the  lot  of  these  men  and  their  families,  I  don't  be- 
lieve it. 

Many  had  their  nearest  and  dearest  on  both  sides; 
perhaps  the  paternal  family  on  one  side,  the  maternal 
on  the  other.  This  was  my  own  case.  Major  "William 
Crutchfield,  the  eccentric  Unionist  of  Chattanooga, 
who  was  so  early  identified  with  that  town,  and  lately 
died  there,  was  one  of  my  relatives  on  my  mother's 
side.  It  was  he  who  in  the  Crutchfield  house  an- 
swered the  speech  of  Jefferson  Davis,  when  on  his  way 
from  Washington.     For  intense  and  fiery  eloquence, 


BROTHER  AGAINST  BROTHER.  17 

prophetic  power  and  dauntless  courage  that  short 
speech  was  unexceUed  by  any  I  have  ever  read.  It 
was  closed  by  some  one  hurling  a  bottle  at  "William 
and  knocking  him  from  the  counter,  to  which  he  had 
sprung.  His  younger  brother  Tom  was  proprietor  of 
the  house,  equally  as  strong,  but  a  far  more  cautious 
Unionist.  These  two  men  figured  conspicuously  in  all 
the  exciting  times  around  and  in  Chattanooga. 

"William  was  accused  of  being  engaged  with  the 
bridge  burners  of  Tennessee  in  the  early  part  of  the 
war.  I  wrote  him  concerning  it,  and  this  was  the 
answer  verbatim : 

"Dear  Liz — I  have  only  time  to  say  this:  It  is  a 
miserable  Confed  lie.  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  I 
am  a  Unionist,  body,  boots  and  breeches.  I  would 
fight  in  the  cause  of  the  devil  rather  than  the  Democ- 
racy.   Yours  ever,  BILL." 

I  never  saw  him  until  the  vines  were  green  and 
pears  were  growing  in  orchards  planted  on  Missionary 
Ridge  where  cannon  had  been  dragged.  The  balls 
were  then  piled  in  heaps  in  fence  corners  and  door 
yards  of  Northern  soldiers,  plying  their  peaceful  trade 
as  farmers  and  fruit  growers.  ' '  Farmer  Bill ' '  and  I 
ate  and  praised  their  fruit,  while  they  questioned  him 
regarding  mooted  points  in  the  great  campaign. 


18  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

III. 

AN  OLD-TIME  ALABAMA  HOUSEHOLD. 

1  THINK  the  saddest  day  of  my  whole  life  was  the 
day  that  Alabama  seceded  from  the  Union,  Janu- 
ary 11th,  1861,  and  I  recall  no  gloom  that  seemed 
to  me  so  terrible  as  that  which  then  shrouded  my 
spirit;  but  we  grew  accustomed,  to  everything,  and 
the  excitement  was  so  intense  one  scarcely  recovered 
from  one  surprise  ere  another  was  upon  us.  Yet 
amid  all  the  terror,  wrath  and  tears  I  found  much 
that  was  calculated  to  amuse,  until  the  actual  begin- 
ning of  hostilities,  and  we  were  made  to  feel  the 
terrible  realities  of  war. 

The  people  were  wild  with  the  "non-consumption" 
.  /craze,  going  back  to  homespun  jeans,  lye  soap,  etc., 
*    long  before  the  necessity  was  upon  us. 

On  a  large  plantation  near  my  home  resided  dur- 
ing the  summer  a  most  estimable  but  very  peculiar 
family.  The  mother  was  a  widow  with  five  lovely 
girls  and  an  equal  number  of  boys.  They  were 
wealthy,  owning  the  largest  number  of  slaves  of  any 
one  in  the  county,  and  their  plantation  was  very  large, 
numbering  many  hundred  acres  of  both  wild  and  well 
cultivated  land. 

Some  little  time  after  going  home,  and  before  com- 
munication was  closed  our  young  doctor  of  the  ' '  toast 
story"  sent  me  a  copy  of  the  "Household  of  Bou- 
veare,"  just  issued  from  the  press  by  Mrs.  "Warfield.  I 
was  often  a  guest  in  the  "Blank"  family,  and  when 
there  frequently  read  stories  while  they  sat  around  me 
sewing.  On  one  occasion  two  of  the  fairest  and  most 
charming  of  the  beauties  of  Montgomery  were  guests 
in  this  family,   and   I  had   gone  out,   carrying  the 


AN  OLD-TIME  ALABAMA  HOUSEHOLD.  19 

"Household  of  Bouveare"  to  read.  The  young  ladies 
•were  all  preparing  for  a  grand  ball,  that  was  soon  to 
he  given,  and  four  of  them  were  going  to  wear  home- 
spun dresses. 

Madam  B.  always  had  her  preserves  made  in  open 
kettles  in  the  large  yard,  where  they  were  directly 
under  her  line  of  vision. 

She  was  a  notable  housekeeper.  All  the  sewing,  cut- 
ting and  giving  out  of  clothing  fell  under  her  own 
directions,  as  well  as  the  distribution  of  medicines, 
etc.  And  just  here  I  would  say  the  world  held  no 
equal  of  such  housekeepers.  It  was  like  managing  a 
State  on  a  small  scale,  and  Mrs.  B.  was  one  of  the 
best.  Though  extremely  large,  and  sitting  much  in 
her  chair,  she  had  her  factotums,  Jennie  and  Kitty, 
constantly  on  the  run,  supervised  by  some  older  domes- 
tic, and  often  by  one  of  her  daughters. 

On  this  particular  day  we  sat  on  the  open  portico 
and  I  was  to  read  Beauveare  to  them.  The  four  girls 
were  sewing  on  their  dresses,  vile-smelling,  common 
checked  goods,  such  as  we  used  for  our  servants  at 
that  time.  They  were  making  them  with  long  trains, 
low  neck  and  short  sleeves,  and  the  lace  they  were 
trimming  them  with  was  Pointe  de  Alencon,  Honiton 
and  Valenciennes,  suitable  for  the  dress  of  a  duchess 
at  a  court  ball. 

In  those  days  well  nigh  all  our  girls  made  most  of 
their  own  dresses.  All  of  a  girl's  dresses  and  under- 
clothing were  made  by  her  own  nimble  fingers,  save 
her  very  best.  But  this  was  long  before  the  making 
and  importation  of  ready-made  garments  for  women. 

Although  I  had  been  long  married,  having  entered 
that  state  at  sixteen,  owing  to  the  fact  that  I  had  al- 
ways lived  in  the  town,  everybody  called  me  Lizzie 
or  Miss  Lizzie. 

During  the  reading  on  this  afternoon  it  was  about 
like  this :    ' '  Please  wait  a  minute.  Miss  Lizzie.  Would 


20  WAR   TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

you  put  the  lace  on  as  full  as  this?"  from  one  of  the 
girls,  as  she  held  up  the  waist,  with  the  delicate  lace 
partly  sewed  on.  I  (laid  my  book  face  down  on  my 
knee,  inspected  the  dress,  gave  my  opinion  and  re- 
sumed my  reading.  Scarcely  would  two  lines  be  read 
before  the  madam's  clear  voice  would  ring  out  loud 
and  full : 

"You,  Helen !  I  am  looking  at  you  nodding !  Watch 
that  fire!" 

This  to  the  sable  attendant  who  sat  on  a  low  stool  by 

the  open  kettles,  knitting  in  hand — for  no  one  was 

allowed  to  be  idle  anywhere  in  her  domain.    Even  the 

two  little  negro  girls  who  stood  by  her  chair  to  run 

her  various  errands,  both  held  in  their  hands  two  large 

j  straws  with  coarse  thread,  on  which  they  were  learn- 

/  ing  to  knit ;  for  two  pairs  of  socks  for  each  negro  man 

I   had  to  be  knit  by  the  women  and  girls  during  warm 

weather. 

A  rapid  thump,  thump,  thump  from  the  Madam's 
thimble  finger  would  rouse  one  of  the  nodding  girls 
at  her  side,  whose  small  fingers  would,  in  the  waking 
jerk,  tear  out  two  or  three  stitches.  These  must 
be  "picked  up,"  with  running  comments  on  the  knit- 
ter's laziness,  which  would  be  interrupted  by  a  half- 
suppressed  titter  from  the  girl  on  the  other  side ;  but 
the  quick  rap  of  the  thimble  on  the  small  pate  soon 
changed  the  laugh  to  a  whimper.  A  rapid  glance  at 
me  and  a  cordial,  "Read  on,  Lizzie;  I  hear  you," 
would  start  me  with  my  book  again— to  be  interrupted 
by  some  shambling  negro  coming  in  for  orders,  or  to 
tell  of  some  needed  action  somewhere  on  the  premises. 
She  would  give  her  orders  and  almost  in  the  same 
breath  say,  "Read  on,  Lizzie;  I  hear  you." 

In  a  moment  or  two  Charley  or  Benny  would  come 
in  with  a  great  bucket  of  red  plums,  or  some  little 
negro  would  trot  in  with  a  lot  of  guinea  hen  eggs,  he 
had  found  in  the  brush,  or  the  cackling  of  hens  and 
the  "pot-rack,  pot-rack"  of  the  hundreds  of  guineas 


AN  OLD-TIME  ALABAMA  HOUSEHOLD.  21 

would  drown  the  bellowing  of  a  cow,  let  alone  a 
woman's  voice.  A  lull  would  come  and  in  the  silence 
I  would  try  to  read  again,  to  be  interrupted  by  one 
of  the  visiting  beauties  sweeping  out  of  a  side  room, 
her  homespun  dress  on,  and  the  loveliest  neck  and 
arms  shining  like  white  wax;  and  she  would  sweep 
the  vile  smelling  train  around  for  us  to  tell  if  it  hung 
all  right.  This  decided,  it  would  be  the  part  of  some 
of  the  group  to  cry  out, ' '  Read  on,  Miss  Lizzie ;  we  are 
so  interested." 

I  think,  as  I  recall  it  all,  it  was  one  of  the  most 
ludicrous  scenes  and  yet  so  characteristic  in  its  make- 
up. I  can  see  the  lovely  picture  now,  those  towering 
live-oak  trees,  with  their  willow-shaped  leaves,  and  the 
row  of  scarlet  pomegranate  blooms  so  vivid  in  their 
rich,  red  color — the  strutting  gobbler  and  the  chatter- 
ing fowls.  The  peacock,  with  his  gorgeous  train  un- 
furled, as  he  slowly  walked  along  the  fence  rail,  turn- 
ing and  twisting  until  the  mingled  blues  and  greens 
shone  like  emeralds  in  the  sun.  In  the  distance  the 
green  corn  and  across  the  road  and  back  of  the  house 
the  cotton  field  with  its  varied  blooms  of  yellow  and 
white,  and  under  the  althea  bushes  by  the  hedges,  the 
little  girls,  black  and  white,  playing  in  their  play 
houses,  tricked  out  with  broken  bottles,  china  and  tin, 
with  rag  dolls,  and,  perhaps,  one  or  two  stil  remain- 
ing from  the  Christmas  last  past,  minus  a  leg  or  arm, 
or  even  with  a  split  head.  Between  the  children  and 
'the  house,  the  kettles  with  their  smoking  sweets  and 
patient  black  watchers,  who  would  every  little  while 
send  in  by  a  little  shining-faced  negro  girl  a  saucer 
with  a  small  quantity  of  the  cooking  fruit  for  "miss- 
tis"  to  see  how  it  was  progressing. 

Dear  dead  days,  sweet  sad  times !  between  then  and 
now,  dear  God,  what  awful  tragedies  I  have  borne  my 
part  in;  and  yet  today  the  true  and  tender  rises  tri- 
umphant, and  life  is  still  sweet  and  full  of  divine 
possibilities  for  all  the  race,  I  do  believe. 


22  WAR   TIME   REMINISCENCES. 

"When  the  ball  came  off  the  girls  looked  as  lovely  as 
when  in  satin  and  lace,  for  the  dresses  fitted  their  per- 
fect figures  to  a  charm.  One  of  the  young  men  who 
had  danced  with  all  the  four  came  to  me,  and,  taking 
me  to  one  side,  asked  in  a  hollow  whisper :  ' '  Miss  Liz- 
zie, what  in  heaven's  name  is  it  that  smells  so  awfully 
about  those  girls?"  "Why,  it  is  a  new  perfume  they 
are  using,"  I  said.  "They  call  it  patriotism;  I  call 
it  indigo  dye."  "Oh,"  he  said,  "it  is  the  dresses; 
why  didn't  they  wash  them?    It  is  a  horrid  smell." 

I  told  the  girls  about  it,  and  when  they  got  home 
they  were  a  beautiful  blue  all  about  their  necks,  and 
they  hardly  allowed  the  word  homespun  ever  to  be 
uttered  to  them  until  we  really  had  to  make  it  at 
home  and  wear  it. 

When  we  began  to  gather  boneset  and  dogwood,  wil- 
low and  wild-cherry  to  supply  the  place  of  quinine, 
and  crossvine  and  blackberry  leaves  for  tea,  the 
madam,  who,  like  an  Englishman,  allowed  no  tres- 
passing on  her  lands,  was  always  quarreling  with 
the  root  seekers  and  threatening  prosecution  for  it  un- 
less she  gave  permission. 

Dear,  loving,  motherly  soul!  She  has  long  since 
passed,  with  her  many  slaves,  "below  that  low  green 
tent,  whose  curtain  never  outward  swings,"  and 
among  my  memories  her  love  for  me  is  very  dear 
indeed. 


A  VISION  OF  DEATH.  23 


IV. 

A   VISION   OF  DEATH. 

IN  FEBRUABY,  1861,  I  was  in  Montgomery  dur- 
ing the  Confederate  Congress,  and  was  present 
when  Jefferson  Davis  was  inaugurated.  Every- 
thing seemd  like  a  gala  day ;  and  still,  under  the  light- 
ness of  seeming  joy,  was  many  an  aching  heart. 

Near  the  last  of  February  a  company  was  formed 
at  my  home  of  the  young  men  of  the  town,  mainly  the 
very  best  in  social  position.  To  uniform  them  was 
the  first  and  most  important  step;  then  to  get  up  a 
flag  instead  of  the  one  they  were  using. 

While  this  movement  was  in  progress  I  availed  my- 
self of  an  opportunity  to  visit  Mobile  and  New  Or- 
leans. My  trip  down  the  river  to  Mobile  was  among 
a  merry  group  of  friends,  two  brides  being  in  our 
crowd,  and  I  was  accompanied  by  several  charming 
young  girls. 

I  recall  the  day  of  Lincoln's  inauguration,  March 
4,  as  a  memorable  one  in  my  life.  I  had  that  day 
spent  many  hours  with  Mme.  Octavia  "Walton  Levert, 
so  well  known  for  many  years  as  a  charming  society 
woman.  I  had  been  a  pupil  of  Mrs.  Caroline  Lee 
Hentz,  and  learned  much  of  Mme.  Levert  from  her. 
In  my  youth  we  had  been  friends  for  some  time.  She 
was  now  confined  to  her  room  with  a  sprained  ankle. 
Whatever  one  may  hear  or  know  of  this  lovely  woman, 
one  fact  remains  irrefutable:  She  "was  the  most  gen- 
erous and  helpful  spirit  to  ever}*  young  aspirant  to 
fame  and  fortune  that  I  ever  knew. 

The  tears  flowed  down  her  cheeks  as  we  talked  of 
the  then  existing  condition  of  affairs.  With  deep  in- 
terest we  discussed  the  outlook,  and  her  views  were 
gloomy  in  the  extreme.     Younger,  and  with  less  of 


24  WAT.   TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

life's  larger  interest  to  lose  (for  her  friends  were 
legion  all  over  the  Union),  I  saw  things  through  more 
hopeful  glasses.  Nevertheless,  her  gloom  depressed 
me  greatly. 

I  returned  to  my  hotel,  the  Battle  House,  and  spent 
the  evening  in  company  with  Judge  and  Mrs.  Meek, 

Miss  Mc and  others.    It  was  at  least  11  o'clock 

when  I  went  to  my  room. 

My  father  and  I  had  not  met  for  several  years, 
he  having  gone  to  Arkansas  with  my  two  half  brothers. 
For  a  long  time  I  had  not  had  a  communication  from 
him  or  them.  My  two  brothers,  we  had  learned,  had, 
like  so  many  other  Southern  youths,  enlisted  in  the 
first  regiment  organized  in  the  State. 

I  was  singularly  like  my  father  in  temperament 
and  person.  As  I  have  often  said,  "I  was  the  child 
of  his  soul  as  well  as  his  body."  The  peculiar  char- 
acteristic which  I  seemed  to  have  of  projecting  my 
seeing  and  hearing  faculties  far  beyond  any  actual 
power  that  I  possessed  normally  made  me,  while  a 
young  child,  a  subject  of  deep  interest  as  well  as  care 
to  him ;  and  he  alone  seemed,  in  some  measure,  to  un- 
derstand my  nature,  and  to  sympathize  with  my  start- 
ling statements.  He  had  found  that  I  did  see  and 
know  of  events  that  occurred  miles  away,  as  was  more 
than  once  verified  by  him. 

On  this  night  I  lay  down  in  my  room  alone,  in  a 
singularly  depressed  yet  highly  excited  mood,  and 
sank  into  a  profound  slumber. 

Suddenly  it  seemed  to  me  I  was  aroused  as  if  un- 
seen hands  had  lifted  me  up  toward  the  ceiling,  and 
was  wide  awake  and  looking  down  with  the  greatest 
interest  on  a  scene  transpiring  in  a  room  where  every 
feature  was  plainly  visible.  It  was  a  large,  square 
room,  with  a  fireplace,  two  doors  and  one  window. 
The  ceiling  was  plastered,  as  were  the  walls  of  the 
room.     In  the  corner  stood  a  high-post  cottage  bed- 


A  VISIOX  OF  DEATH.  23 

stead.  Between  the  bed  and  the  fireplace  (in  which 
logs  were  burning),  near  the  middle  of  the  room,  was 
a  huge  lounge  bed  covered  with  black  leather,  both 
ends  standing  upright,  and  without  any  back.  It 
looked  gloomy  and  hearse-like.  In  the  corner  of  the 
room  next  the  fireplace,  and  between  that  and  the 
window,  was  a  piece  of  furniture  covered  from  top 
to  bottom  with  a  white  cloth  reaching  the  ceiling. 
There  was  a  door  on  the  side  of  the  room  opposite 
the  fireplace,  and  one  on  the  side  opposite  the  window, 
thus  making  a  door  near  the  head  and  one  near  the 
foot  of  the  bed.  The  ceiling  was  so  low  that  it  was 
hardly  an  inch  from  the  uncanopied  bedposts. 

Lying  on  the  bed  was  a  man  in  great  agony,  and 
a  woman  was  kneeling  by  the  bed.  He  was  resting 
on  his  elbow  with  his  face  drawn  down  on  his  breast. 
Suddenly  he  threw  himself  back  on  his  pillow  and 
stretched  out  his  arms  in  death  agony.  I  could  not 
see  his  face,  for  the  woman  threw  herself  across  his 
body  like  a  frenzied  thing.  Then  she  sprang  up, 
trying  to  raise  him,  and  I  saw  her  face  plainly.  It 
was  myself;  and  the  dead  man  was  my  father.  I 
seemed  to  fall,  fall  in  unfathomable  space.  Then  I 
was  sitting  up  in  bed,  cold  with  a  sort  of  deadly  chill. 
I  sprang  from  my  bed,  lit  the  gas  and  looked  at  my 
watch.    I  had  slept  only  two  hours. 

I  dressed  and  walked  the  floors  for  hours.  I  wrote 
down  the  whole  thing  just  as  given  here,  and  for  days 
and  months  I  was  wild  with  despair.  I  wrote  to  my 
father,  but  heard  nothing,  and  finally  the  very  un- 
reasonableness of  the  whole  thing  and  the  ridicule  of 
my  relatives,  caused  me  to  put  it  by.  I  had  hosts  of 
friends,  my  father  also,  and  how  could  a  train  of  cir- 
cumstances ever  arise  that  would  place  him  alone, 
dying,  and  only  I  with  him? 

This  was  in  March,  1861,  and  that  vision,  or  pro- 
phetic dream,  whatever  it  may  be  called,  was  literally 


26  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

fulfilled  in  December  of  1863. 

A  full  account  of  this  fulfillment  will  be  given  later 
on,  in  its  proper  connection ;  as  it  forms  an  important 
chapter  in  the  remarkable  psychological  experiences 
of  those  terrible  years. 

From  Mobile  I  went  to  New  Orleans  with  my  gay 
crowd  of  young  friends,  and  saw  all  its  glory  of  fruit 
and  flowers  so  early  in  the  season,  and  made  my  visit 
for  the  first  time  to  the  French  Market,  and  all  the 
historical  precincts  that  Cable  and  others  have  since 
made  familiar. 

On  our  return  there  were  quite  a  number  of  young 
people  with  us,  and  when  blown  out  into  the  gulf  the 
passage  was  very  rough  and  nearly  everybody  was  ill. 

Among  the  company  was  a  young  fellow  that  talked 
a  great  deal,  and  was  quite  a  dude,  but  very  pleasant. 
An  old  gentleman  was  returning  from  a  Texas  trip, 
and  his  sea-sickness  made  him  cross  as  a  wasp.  He 
had  crawled  on  deck  where  the  dude  and  myself  were, 
as  neither  of  us  had  been  ill,  and  lay  down  on  a  bench 
near  us.  The  young  man  was  telling  some  wonderful 
Arkansas  adventure,  and  called  the  State  Ar-kan-sas, 
with  a  strong  accent  on  the  last  syllable.  The  old  man 
twisted  his  face  and  scowled  at  him  some  time  without 
a  word.    At  last  he  howled  out : 

"Young  man,  for  heaven's  sake  say  'saw!'  Don't 
say  'sas,'  for  the  word  'sas'  makes  me  so  infernally 
sick  I  shall  soon  be  vomiting  again." 

Everybody  screamed  with  laughter.  When  the  fun 
subsided  the  old  man  sat  up  and  started  a  tirade 
against  spelling,  calling  over  all  the  names  he  could 
think  of,  spelling  them  over,  and  then  swearing  at  the 
fool  who  put  such  pronunciations  to  them,  such  as 
Teche,  Tchoupitoulas,  Atchafalaya,  etc.  He  proved 
to  be  one  of  the  most  entertaining  men  we  met,  and, 
despite  his  rough  clothes,  rough  language  and  long 
beard,  was  a  genuine  gentleman,  and  most  pronounced 
in  his  views  on  all  subjects. 


A  VISION  OF  DEATH.  27 

I  remember  we  had  a  young  man  come  on  board  who 
had  been  engaged  in  a  duel  at  Fort  Pickens.  He 
joined  us  after  we  left  Mobile,  and  this  old  gentleman, 
after  I  introduced  him,  broke  out : 

"You  didn't  have  any  Yankees  to  kill,  so  you  fell 
to  shootin'  one  'nother,  hey?  Well,  young  man,  just 
wait  a  little  bit  and  you'll  have  a  chance  to  get  bled,  if 
you  're  feverish. ' ' 

The  young  man  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  us ;  but 
the  old  gentleman  kept  up  his  running  comment  on 
things  in  general,  which  was  very  interesting  and 
amusing. 

On  this  trip  I  met  old  Colonel  John  Grant,  of 
Grant's  Pass,  one  of  the  remarkable  men  of  the  times. 
I  think  he  is  still  living  in  New  Orleans,  unless  he  has 
recently  died,  and  is  nearly  a  hundred  years  old.  He 
held  a  post  in  the  government  employ  for  a  great 
many  years. 

The  week  after  I  got  home  the  Light  Guards  left 
our  town  for  Fort  Pickens,  and  I  was  invited  to  pre- 
sent the  flag  to  them.  I  did  present  it,  with  a  heavy 
heart,  for  already  I  had  learned  that  both  my  brothers 
were  in  the  ranks. 

President  Davis  called   on  Mississippi   for   three 
thousand  soldiers.     The  call  was  made  on  Friday ;  on  \ 
Monday  they  were  all  ready  at  his  command.     The  I 
call  was  made  on  Alabama  for  five  thousand,  and  in 
four  days  they  were  ready  for  orders.     Georgia  had    ]/ 
eleven  thousand  men  armed  and  equipped  in  April. 
These  were  independent  of  the  troops  at  the  various 
forts.    Munificent  gifts  were  presented  by  private     „ 
individuals,  in  addition  to  the  public  fund.  ^ 

The  South  had  never  cooled  in  its  bitterness  at  the 
sympathy  shown  by  the  North  with  John  Brown's 
raid  on  Harper's  Ferry,  and  it  had  grown  with  every 
hour.  Flags  hung  at  half-mast  in  Northern  harbors, 
and  he  was  mourned  as  a  patriot  of  exalted  worth. 


28  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

Truly  it  may  be  said:  "That  man  loosed  a  stone, 
whose  fall  echoed  around  the  world,  and  whose  effect 
latest  ages  will  feel. ' ' 

"Dixie"  sounded  everywhere  and  was  near  this 
time  used  so  commonly  on  all  occasions  that  it  became 
the  national  air  for  the  new-born  government. 
/  Now  came  a  tearing  up  of  our  carpets  for  carpet- 
ing the  tents  of  our  soldiers,  and  supplies  were  sent 
/from  every  household  to  the  various  encampments 
/  awaiting  orders.     In  the  prodigal  waste  that  love  and 
I    patriotism  then  inspired  among  our  people  in  the 
homes,  little  did  we  dream  how  our  children  and 
/    our  sick  would  needthe  wines  and  cordials  and  other 
delicacies  so  early  sent  out  and  never  again  supplied. 
There  were  in  the  homes  of  many  people  luxuries  of 
a  character  and  quantity  to  have  lasted  over  four 
years    if    husbanded    with    care.       Loving    mothers 
thought  of  the  boys  only,  so  all  that  could  be  spared 
was  sent,  and  in  the  idleness  of  camp  life  was  waste- 
fully  used.     This  was  why  want  came  so  soon  to  our 
people  when  hostilities  really  began  in  deadly  earnest 
and  all  hope  of  reconciliation  was  gone  forever. 


WOIIAN'S  WORK  FOR  THE  SOLDIERS.  29 

Y. 

WOMAN'S    WORK    FOR    THE    SOLDIERS. 

WELL  do  I  remember  the  first  Confederate  bill 
that  I  saw  and  the  remarks  called  forth  by- 
it.  We  were  at  the  dinner  table  in  the  hotel 
where  we  boarded  when  John  Bird  came  in,  and  after 
sitting  down  drew  out  a  beautiful  new  bill,  calling  for 
fifty  dollars.  It  was  blue  and  somewhat  like  the 
greenback.  It  was  passed  around  from  hand  to  hand, 
calling  forth  various  comments,  mostly  of  admiration 
and  approval.  "When  it  reached  me  in  its  round  I 
said  to  a  gentleman  beside  me:  "How  long  do  you 
think  it  will  be  before  we  will  have  to  give  $500  of 
this  currency  for  a  barrel  of  flour?"  "Why,"  he 
asked,  ' '  do  you  ask  such  a  question  as  that  ? ' '  "  Sim- 
ply because  I  believe  that  it  will  be  but  a  very  short 
time  before  it  will  be  at  a  heavy  discount  from  the 
various  conditions  that  war  produces." 

A  general  outcry  was  made  against  me  for  lack  of 
patriotism  by  those  present. 

"You  are  familiar  with  the  expression  used  in  olden 
times — if  you  will  pardon  me  for  using  it, "  I  replied, 
"a  thing  of  little  value  was  declared  not  worth  a  con- 
tinental damn.  It  was  owing  to  the  depreciation  of 
the  currency  of  our  country,  and  I  am  certain  that 
our  own  will  be  the  same  in  less  than  a  year. ' ' 

Anticipating  a  little,  I  will  say  that  in  February, 
'62,  it  had  fallen  to  six  cents  on  the  dollar,  and  it  was 
amusing  in  one  sense  to  see  men  carrying  it  about  in 
armsful,  almost,  to  pay  their  debts. 

Shortly  after  its  issue  a  law  was  passed  compell- 
ing all  parties  to  receive  payment  of  all  debts  in  the 
currency  of  the  Confederacy.  We  had  some  $8,000 
loaned  to  one  man,  and  though  I  begged  earnestly  that 


30  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

he  would  not  pay  it  then,  but  use  the  money  even  with- 
out interest  until  the  war  closed,  we  were  compelled 
to  receive  it.  Speculation  ran  high,  but  nothing 
caused  greater  dislike  to  be  aroused  than  to  be  engaged 
in  it. 

There  had  been  much  talk  of  the  revival  of  the  slave 
trade  in  the  South,  and  though  I  am  not  aware  that 
it  was  done  in  other  instances,  I  know  that  one  vessel 
brought  over  a  number  of  negroes.  The  Wanderer 
anchored  in  some  port  off  the  Florida  coast,  and  nine 
Africans  were  brought  into  Mobile.  Fred  Anus- 
paugh,  a  clerk  on  one  of  the  steamers,  brought  two 
young  women  to  our  town.  One  of  them  he  kept  as  a 
nurse  for  his  son,  and  the  other  was  hired  in  our  hotel. 
They  were  sisters,  and  far  from  black.  Though  not 
mulattoes,  they  were  brown-skinned  and  of  most 
graceful  forms.  Nellie,  our  girl,  was  the  younger, 
and  if  a  black  woman  was  ever  beautiful,  she  was. 
Her  features  were  clean  cut,  almost  Grecian  in  type. 
It  was  my  delight  to  question  her  concerning  her  cap- 
ture, the  customs  of  her  people  and  the  state  of  her 
family. 

"With  childish  pride  she  stripped  the  clothing  from 
her  graceful  form  and  pointed  to  the  lace-like  girdle 
around  her  waist,  tattooed  into  the  skin  with  some 
colored  pigment,  and  declared  that  none  save  the 
daughter  of  a  mighty  chief  wore  the  armlets,  anklets, 
and  girdle  such  as  she  displayed. 

"My  father  rides,"  she  said,  "and  an  army  moves 
at  his  back.  He  wears  a  sword  and  is  a  king ;  we  are 
a  mighty  warrior's  daughters." 

She  said  that  her  mother  sewed  with  needles  and 
wore  calico.  The  quickness  and  intelligence  of  those 
African  girls  was  a  strong  argument  in  their  favor, 
and  the  purity  and  correctness  of  language  so  soon  ac- 
quired was  wonderful.  Poor  Nellie  became  a  mother 
within  a  year,  and  both  sisters  felt  the  disgrace  so 


WOMAN'S  WORK  FOR  THE  SOLDIERS.  31 

keenly  they  attempted  suicide,  Nellie  by  opening  her 
veins  with  a  penknife,  and  Clara  threw  herself  from 
a  second-story  window.  Both  failed  in  their  attempts. 
I  left  in  1863,  so  lost  all  trace  of  them. 

The  blockade  had  been  established  at  Charleston. 
The  first  evidence  of  failure  in  needed  supplies  was  , 
the  scarcity  of  salt.     The  United  States  mint  at  New  *^~ 
Orleans  had  been  seized  by  the  State  authorities  of 
Louisiana.     Congress  had  transferred  the  capital  to 
Richmond. 

In  June  and  July  events  of  the  most  exciting  char- 
acter were  occurring  and  hostilities  were  actually  be- 
gun. First  a  cavalry  skirmish  at  Fairfax,  Va,,  then 
quickly  followed  the  fights  at  Big  Bethel  and  Ronmey. 
"When  the  Federals  evacuated  and  burned  Harper's 
Ferry  excitement  was  at  fever  heat,  and  when  the 
forty  or  fifty  locomotives  belonging  to  the  Baltimore 
&  Ohio  Railroad  were  destroyed  no  pen  can  give  an 
idea  of  the  excitement  in  the  lower  States  immedi- 
ately following  the  event.  The  council  of  war  was 
held  at  "Washington  and  the  call  for  400,000  men  and 
$400,000,000  to  put  down  the  rebellion  was  issued  by 
Lincoln. 

Money  had  now  to  be  raised  for  the  soldiers,  and,  as 
usual,  women  had  to  raise  a  good  share  of  it.  Every 
household  became  a  workshop  and  women  congregated  IS 
by  hundreds  in  halls  to  sew  for  the  soldiers.  Negroes 
were  knitting  stockings;  children  knit,  and  women 
that  never  touched  a  needle  before  knit  far  into  the 
night  with  eyes  so  dim  with  tears  they  could  scarcely 
see  their  needles.  I  had  a  perfect  hatred  for  this 
work,  so  I  compromised  with  two  young  girls  to  make 
jackets  for  them  while  they  knit  for  me. 

I  was  the  secretary  of  our  association,  and  my  task 
was  no  sinecure.  I  cut,  sewed  aud  basted  incessantly, 
as  did  every  other  woman  in  town.     I  would  be  glad  if 


y 


32  WAE    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

I  had  the  old  books  to  tell  how  many  hundreds  of 
garments  and  boxes  of  supplies  we  sent  out  from  that 
long  room.  No  less  than  seventy  or  eighty  women 
were  sewing  there  for  months.  Prior  to  this  we  had 
raised  money  by  giving  concerts  and  entertainments 
Lv-^of  every  kind;  we  had  tableaux  and  charades,  dra- 
matic  entertainments,  and  shows  of  every  sort.  "We 
wore  out  our  finery  in  this  manner  more  than  in  any 
other  way. 

After  the  second  battle  of  Bull  Run  the  wildest 
joy  and  enthusiasm  filled  the  people;  success  seemed 
certain  and  the  opinion  prevailed  that  hostilities 
would  soon  cease.  But  soon  this  idea  was  discarded, 
for  fighting  was  going  on  in  the  West.  The  battle  of 
"Wilson  Creek  was  one  of  terrible  loss  to  the  South. 
Martial  law  was  declared  in  St.  Louis.  President 
Davis  issued  his  order  for  all  Northern  sympathizers 
to  leave  the  Confederacy  within  forty  days.  At 
Clarke  and  Fort  Hatteras  the  South  met  with  great 
loss  in  prisoners  and  arms. 

Further  and  further  south  came  the  hosts  of  the 
Union  armies.  Fighting  was  going  on  in  Kentucky, 
and  prisoners  were  being  sent  to  the  South  and  North 
alike,  carrying  with  them  the  hearts  of  sorrowing 
women,  whose  daily  prayer  was  that  the  terrible  war 
of  brother  against  brother  might  soon  end. 

As  each  Southern  town  fell  into  the  hands  of  and 
was  garrisoned  by  Union  troops  men  began  to  run  a 
[./system  of  blockade  smuggling,  and  the  greed  of  gain 
ate  into  the  heart  of  many  a  man  who  had  until  then 
been  loyal  to  the  cause  of  the  South.  It  was  during 
this  time,  and  thus  early  in  the  war,  that  men  on  both 
sides  saw  opportunities  of  making  money  such  as 
had  never  before  been  presented,  and  the  birth  of 
monopolies  took  place  that  have  since  towered  into 
such  gigantic  proportions  as  to  cast  a  far-reaching 
shadow  over  the  whole  nation. 


WOMAN'S  WORK  FOR  THE  SOLDIERS.  33 

Amidst  the  turmoil  and  strife,  the  indirect  cause  of 
all  this  loss  of  life  and  peace — the  negro  race — bore 
their  part.  Able-bodied  white  men  all  gone,  the/  ,. 
women  and  children  were  under  their  care ;  their  will- 
ing hands  labored,  and  by  their  sweat  and  toil  our 
coarse  fare  was  provided.  Not  an  outrage  was  perpe- 
trated, no  house  was  burned.  Afar  off  on  lonely- 
farms  women  with  little  children  slept  at  peace,  ' — 
guarded  by  a  sable  crowd,  whom  they  perfectly 
trusted.  No  pen  will  ever  chronicle,  no  song  or  story 
will  ever  tell,  the  noble  and  tender  deeds  this  race  per- 
formed; and  in  no  land  was  ever  a  people  so  tender 
and  helpful— their  very  toil  helping  to  perpetuate 
their  own  bondage. 

Among  the  negroes  prohibition  almost  absolutely 
prevailed.  Though  little  imported  liquor  came  in 
through  the  now  almost  impervious  blockade,  corn 
whisky  was  largely  made  and  freely  used  or  sold  in 
many  places;  but  woe  to  the  rum-seller  who  dared /,..- 
sell  a  drink  to  any  slave.  To  this,  much  of  our  safety 
and  peace  can  be  attributed. 

Men  even  yet  continued  to  buy  and  sell  slaves,  and 
this  trade  was  influenced  by  individual  opinion.  One 
man,  firm  in  the  belief  of  the  ultimate  success  of  the 
South,  added  to  his  slaves;  another,  thinking  in  any 
event  slavery  would  be  difficult  to  enforce,  was  dis- 
posing of  his. 

Somewhere  near  the  last  of  February  of  1862  the 
battles  of  Fort  Donelson  and  of  Pea  Ridge,  Ark,  wero 
fought,  with  results  disastrous  in  the  extreme  to  the 
South,  nearly  15.000  prisoners  being  taken. 

"We  were  working  all  the  time  trying  to  get  up 
clothing  and  supplies  for  the  hospitals.  Every  old- 
time  loom  that  had  been  put  aside,  every  long-disused 
wheel  was  called  forth — the  cobwebs  brushed  off,  the 
legs  put  in  order,  and  every  woman  who  could  weave, 
high  or  low,  sent  the  flying  shuttle  with  busy  fingers. 


34  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

while  the  young  girls  turned  the  wheel  whose  cheerful 
hum  echoed  everywhere.  The  famous  butternut,  or 
walnut-dyed  jeans,  was  woven,  cut  into  pantaloons 
and  jackets,  and  forwarded  to  the  various  depart- 
ments. It  was  no  longer  a  question  of  uniform  or  of 
gray  clothing— it  was  any  covering  for  comfort. 
Every  long-prized  coat,  cloak  or  carpet  that  could  be 
used  was  made  into  clothing  for  the  boys. 

On  the  7th  of  April,  1862,  Island  No.  10  was  sur- 
rendered after  a  long  bombardment  and  a  loss  to  the 
Confederacy  of  guns,  horses,  wagons,  steamers  and 
prisoners  took  place  that  cast  a  gloom  over  the  land, 
intensified  four-fold  by  the  awful  carnage  at  Shiloh. 

I  remember  as  if  it  were  but  yesterday  standing 
over  a  large  box  packing  as  rapidly  as  possible  the 
supplies  to  send  to  the  hospitals  in  Virginia.  Judge 
Leak  came  in  holding  in  his  hand  one  of  the  newspa- 
pers then  issued  in  Montgomery,  printed  on  the  mean- 
est paper,  with  his  face  fairly  convulsed  with  grief. 
He  handed  one  of  the  ladies  the  paper,  his  finger 
pointing  to  the  awful  statement  of  killed  and  prison- 
ers taken.  His  sons  were  there,  my  two  brothers,  and 
oh,  such  hosts  of  friends.  I  sat  down  stunned  and 
sick  with  pain  and  a  sort  of  blind  terror  I  never  felt 
in  all  my  life  before.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  a  shroud 
was  around  my  own  body. 

It  was  only  for  a  little  while  we  folded  idle  hands. 
A  meeting  was  called  and  our  decision  soon  made— 
that  the  greater  need  was  for  Shiloh,  and  new  sup- 
plies must  be  added  to  those  we  intended  for  Virginia. 
I  mounted  my  horse  and  rode  from  home  to  home  urg- 
ing the  already  sorely  taxed  women  to  send  all  they 
could  spare  for  the  wounded.  It  was  like  shearing  a 
sheep  already  stripped  of  his  covering. 

New  Orleans  was  in  Union  hands  and  Butler  had 
captured  the  $800,000  in  gold  from  the  mint.  Nor- 
folk had  surrendered.     Once  more  in  the  same  room 


WOMAN'S  WORK  FOR  THE  SOLDIERS.  35 

where  a  few  weeks  before  I  had  helped  to  pack  the 
supplies  a  few  of  us  were  working  (I  had  heard  that 
my  brothers  still  lived),  when  we  were  again  met  by 
the  bringer  of  news  on  the  shabby  paper.  After  Shi- 
loh's  fight  an  order  had  been  issued  that  all  men 
owning  a  certain  number  of  negroes  could  return 
home — the  rest  were  mustered  in  for  the  war.  The 
reason  given  for  this  order  was  that  these  men  should  / 
work  the  negro  forces  in  order  to  raise  supplies  for  the^ 
people.  It  caused  many  poor  men  to  desert  near  this 
time;  for  they  knew  what  suffering  must  be  among 
their  families  who  had  no  negroes  to  work  for  them. 
It  Avas  often  said  "it  was  the  rich  man's  war,  but  the 
poor  man's  fight."  If  so,  never  did  poor  men  do 
braver  duty,  or  die  for  a  cause  more  unselfishly. 


36  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

VI. 

TERRIBLE  PRIVATIONS  AND  INGENIOUS  MAKESHIFTS. 

THE  war  found  us  but  ill-prepared  for  the  block- 
ade that  was  soon  instituted,  and  it  appears  to 
me,  as  I  recall  the  facts  that  existed,  that  not 
one  person  in  ten  anticipated  the  results,  or  else  sup- 
plies of  such  character  as  were  needed  would  have 
been  bought  in  great  quantities  before  hostilities  be- 
gan. 

The  South,  so  essentially  agricultural,  had  bought 
everything  from  Northern  merchants.  Cotton  had 
been  planted  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  crops,  well 
nigh.  Now  potatoes,  corn  and  other  edibles  were 
planted  in  larger  quantities  than  ever  before. 

It  was  laughable  to  see  the  table  of  a  hotel.  Very 
of  ton  half  the  supplies  on  the  table  were  "private 
dishes. ' '  At  the  hotel  where  I  boarded  I  had  my  own 
servant,  and  she  would  bring  in  my  coffee,  ham  and 
other  things.    Many  others  did  the  same. 

The  story  went  the  rounds  that  a  man  went  to  a 
hotel  in  Montgomery  and  started  to  help  himself  to  a 
dish  of  chicken,  but  was  checked  by  a  waiter  saying: 
"Private  chicken,  sah." 

"Well,  bring  me  some  ham." 

' '  Private  ham,  sah. ' ' 

"Well,  see  here,  boy,  you  bring  me  a  good  dinner 
and  I  will  pay  you  well." 

"Can't  do  it;  I'se  a  private  servant,  sah." 

"See,  here,  landlord  or  waiter,  bring  me  what  ain't 
private  on  this  table,"  yelled  the  irate  guest;  and  they 
brought  him  a  salt  cellar  full  of  salt  and  a  loaf  of  corn- 
bread  ! 

Our  needs  were  great  in  many  directions.  Shoes 
it  was  next  to  impossible  to  get  without  paying  enor- 
mous prices.     Leather  was  almost  as  difficult  to  get, 


PRIVATIONS  AND  INGENIOUS  MAKESHIFTS.        37 

for  the  tanning  of  leather  was  very  difficult.  Every- 
body was  making  shoes,  ripping  out  the  soles  of  old 
shoes  and  using  pieces  of  broadcloth  from  old  coats 
or  table  covers,  whatever  would  serve  to  make  uppers. 
I  saw  some  made  by  a  neighbor  so  very  nice  that  I  con- 
cluded I  would  try  it.  I  undertook  to  rip  the  stitches 
from  a  pair  of  soles  without  asking  any  one  how  it 
was  done.  I  drove  the  awl  first  into  my  thumb,  then 
the  forefinger,  and  next  into  the  palm  of  my  hand. 
For  a  number  of  days  I  carried  my  arm  in  a  sling. 

This  was  my  only  effort  at  shoemaking,  but  I  suc- 
ceeded better  in  bonnet-making;  for  bonnets  were 
made  of  everything  under  the  sun,  from  straw  and 
palmetto  to  cornshucks  and  wire-grass!  I  remember 
I  had  a  cluster  of  Arum  lilies,  and  I  made  a  bonnet  of 
the  vegetable  dishrag,  lined  with  a  pale  pink  crepe 
handkerchief  and  trimmed  with  pink  ribbon  and  my 
Arum  lilies.  I  am  certain  I  never  wore  a  bonnet  that 
was  half  so  becoming,  or  which  gave  me  greater  pleas- 
ure. 

All  the  old-time  finery  of  our  mothers  and  grand- 
mothers was  resurrected,  and  lovely  old-fashioned 
jewelry,  silks  and  laces  were  worn  by  the  young  girls 
during  the  four  years.  I  dressed  once  in  an  entire 
wedding  costume  a  hundred  years  old,  and  I  recall 
my  appearance  as  I  looked  then  in  the  short  waist 
and  narrow  irkirt,  the  high -heeled  shoes  and  old-fash- 
ioned comb,  covering  my  head  like  an  open  crown  of 
shell.  The  vision  in  the  cheval  glass  was  radiant  in 
youth  and  strength.  I  never  looked  so  well,  I  think, 
before  or  since. 

A  wedding  supper  was  the  delight  yet  despair  of 
our  women.  I  think  nothing  so  delightful  as  to  create 
new  things,  to  rise  superior  to  difficulties  and  accom- 
plish great  results  from  small  material.  I  have  seen 
fruit  cake  made  from  dried  applies  and  cherries  in 
lieu  of  citrons  and  raisins,  and  shortened  with  pork, 


33  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

that  was  delicious.  I  think  the  needs  of  the  time  must 
have  invented  the  pork  cake,  recipes  for  which  we 
often  see  in  the  latest  cook  books. 
/  We  had  tea  of  everything— blackberry,  raspberry 
and  sage  leaves,  sassafras  and  spicewood ;  but  the  wild 
/  crossvine,  whose  pretty  stem  the  children  often 
smoked,  furnished  from  its  leaves  the  very  best,  re- 
sembling in  a  great  measure  the  real  Japan  tea ;  but  I 
could  never  drink  it  without  having  a  fear  that  I  was 
getting  hold  of  the  poison  oak  vine,  which  it  so  closely 
resembles. 

Our  coffees  were  made  of  peanuts,  okra,  rye,  wheat, 
corn  and  meal  and  molasses  dried  and  parched;  but 
the  very  best  was  of  sweet  potatoes,  peeled,  cut  into 
small  dice,  dried,  parched  and  ground.  With  a  spoon- 
ful of  real  coffee  this  was  extremely  good. 

We  made  starch  of  green  corn  and  Irish  potatoes; 
and  everything  that  could  be  utilized  for  food  or  do- 
mestic purposes  was  made  use  of. 

Though  it  was  not  until  the  close  of  the  second  year 
of  the  war  that  our  needs  became  actually  so  terrible, 
long  before  the  end  of  the  year  there  was  a  mortality 
unaccounted  for  in  the  annals  of  strife.  Thousands  of 
children  died  during  their  second  summer  of  actual 
starvation,  owing  to  the  coarseness  of  fare  which  alone 
was  possessed  by  the  masses,  and  utterly  unfit  for  an 
invalid  or  teething  child  to  eat.  I  had  among  my 
friends  more  than  one  mother  who  would  recount 
with  the  most  agonizing  grief  the  long  days  of  illness 
and  the  death  of  their  darlings,  for  whom  they  were 
powerless  to  procure  either  medicine  or  suitable  food. 
One  of  these  women  was  mentally  affected  by  the 
death  of  her  little  girl. 

Writing  obituaries  was  my  bete  noir.  I  think  I 
wrote  hundreds,  and  was  glad  when  we  got  down  to 
wall  paper  as  press  paper,  at  which  time  many  a 
weekly  suspended,  owing  to  the  impossibility  of  get- 
ting any  kind  of  paper  for  printing. 


PRIVATIONS  AND  INGENIOUS  MAKESHIFTS.        39 

It  is  wonderful,  as  I  recall  the  circumstances,  that 
our  needs  were  not  greater.  It  was  rare  that  silver 
or  gold  was  used.  "We  bought  our  supplies  and  paid 
our  railroad  fares  with  the  depreciated  Confederate 
money.  I  still  have  on  hand  several  thousand  dollars 
of  it,  though  after  the  war  was  over  I  sent  away  to 
various  friends  hundreds  of  bills  inscribed  with  the 
pathetic  lines  written  by  Major  S.  A.  Jonas,  the  first 
stanza  of  which  reads  as  follows: 

"Representing  nothing  on  God's  earth  now, 

And  naught  in  the  waters  below  it; 
As  a  pledge  of  a  nation  that  passed  away 

Keep  it,  dear  friend,  and  show  it. 
Show  it  to  those  who  will  lend  an  ear 

To  a  tale  this  trifle  will  tell 
Of  liberty  born  of  a  patriot's  dream, 
Of  a  storm-cradled  nation  that  fell." 

It  is  owing  to  the  fact  that  so  many  people  copied 
this  poem  on  the  back  of  Confederate  bills  and  sent 
them  to  friends  that  its  authorship  has  been  so  dis- 
puted. I  sent  one  to  Mrs.  Mary  J.  Holmes,  and  she, 
knowing  that  I  courted  the  muses,  decided  that  it  was 
original,  and  to  my  consternation  I  saw  it  published 
over  my  own  name  in  a  Minnesota  paper. 

The  conscripts  were  being  brought  in  from  all  points 
and  mustered  into  service.  Alas !  alas !  how  different 
from  the  gay  marching  troops  that  had  sprung  so 
gloriously  into  the  ranks  two  years  before.  Worn, 
half-fed,  half-clad,  half-desperate,  they  were  marched 
to  the  field  to  meet  the  foe  that  had  the  world  to  recruit 
from.  "We  were  hemmed  in  by  land  and  sea,  our  men 
dying  on  fields,  in  fortress,  in  prison,  fighting  des- 
perately— and  for  what  ?  No  living  man  at  that  time, 
it  seems  to  me,  but  was  certain  of  ultimate  defeat; 
and  we,  the  women— my  pen  fails  to  portray  our 
misery.  I  would  gladly  draw  the  veil  over  that  day 
and  never  lift  it  while  time  lasts.    "Without  medicines 


40  WAR   TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

in  the  long,  hot  summers,  without  food  suitable  for  the 
sick — our  smokehouses,  our  salt  beds  and  everything 
in  the  shape  of  lead,  torn  up  to  be  used  for  war  pur- 
poses— the  sickening  rye  coffee,  the  coarse  bread,  the 
want,  the  war,  the  burned  houses,  the  desolate  fami- 
lies—I  would  wonder  in  blind  pain  where  is  there  a 
God,  and  does  He  rule  in  the  affairs  of  men  ?  I  was 
young  then,  and  "youth  bows  down  in  misery  and 
amaze  at  the  dark  cloud  overmantling  its  fresh  days." 


INTERESTING  INCIDENTS  AND  EXPERIENCES.    41 

VII. 

INTERESTING   INCIDENTS   AND   EXPERIENCES. 


M 


Y  MEMORY  seems  a  complete  tangle  of  events, 
so  far  as  hostilities  go,  and  I  can  scarcely 
untangle  the  threads  so  crossed  in  memory 
and  rendered  dim  by  time,  "the  beautifier  of  ruins 
and  the  sole  consoler  when  the  heart  hath  bled. ' '     The 
seven  days'  fighting  before  Richmond,  the  surrender 
of  Memphis,  President  Lincoln's  call  for  600,000  more 
men,  and  the  scattering  of  Morgan's  raiders  fill  up 
the  months  of  June  and  July,  1863,  while  hostilities 
were  waging  in  Louisiana,  Tennessee  and  Mississippi  * 
alike.     The  South  was  one  vast  battleground  every-    \]J 
where.    Yet  still  some  men  went  on  buying  and  sell-     y 
ing  slaves  as  if  nothing  was  to  hinder  or  change  their 
destiny. 

All  our  news  from  the  West  was  terrible.  Vicks- 
burg  was  being  bombarded,  had  undergone  a  long 
siege,  and,  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  was  captured  by 
General  Grant.  Our  men  had  surrendered,  the  long 
strain  was  over,  and  negroes  began  to  pour  into  the 
Union  camps  from  every  direction. 

In  August  I  visited  "My  Charming  Nell,"  men- 
tioned in  the  first  of  these  papers,  the  wife  Col.  J.  W. 
Bradley,  of  the  Confederate  army.  She  was  then  liv- 
ing at  Newman,  Ga.  While  there  one  of  my  brothers, 
whom  I  had  not  seen  for  many  years,  came  and  spent 
a  day  and  night  with  me.  Their  regiment  was  with 
a  large  body  of  troops  under  Bragg,  then  massed  at 
Meridian,  Miss.  On  finding  me  gone  from  home,  he 
followed  me  to  Georgia,  as  he  had  a  furlough  of  sev- 
eral days.  We  spent  the  entire  night  talking  together, 
as  he  had  to  leave  at  davbreak  to  return.     I  remember 


42  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

telling  him  then  of  the  awful  vision  of  my  father's 
death,  and  how  we  talked  of  our  love  and  devotion  to 
him. 

Before  thfc  month  was  out  the  command  was  rapidly- 
transferred  to  Tennessee,  and  on  the  19th  of  Septem- 
ber my  brother  was  shot  through  the  head  and  in- 
stantly killed  in  the  first  fighting  at  Chickamauga. 
"Will  Crutehfield,  to  whom  I  have  before  referred, 
was  then  a  major  on  the  Union  General  Wilder 's  staff, 
and  twenty-odd  in  number  of  his  blood  relations  swept 
up  in  the  gray-clad  ranks  of  the  Confederacy,  to  meet 
the  blue-clad  Union  lines  in  that  terrible  harvest  of 
death.  But  he  took  no  part  in  the  hostilities  after 
the  first  day,  for  the  reason  that  he  had  a  serious  ill- 
ness which  lasted  a  week.  Tears  after  he  learned 
that  his  wife,  whose  sympathies  were  as  strong  for 
the  South  as  were  his  for  the  Union,  had  drugged  him 
heavily,  and  so  prevented  his  taking  further  part  in 
the  fratricidal  strife. 

The  Union  headquarters  and  hospital  were  in  the 
Amnicola  farmhouse,  Tom  Crutehfield 's  home,  five 
miles  from  Chattanooga.  It  was  terrible  beyond  de- 
scription to  hear  the  family  at  Amnicola  tell  of  the 
hospital  work,  and  of  the  number  of  limbs  that  were 
buried  on  the  sloping  hill  above  the  orchard.  Mrs. 
Crutehfield  insisted  on  this  being  done  daily,  for  some- 
times the  shutters  would  scarcely  close  above  the 
mangled  limbs,  tossed  from  the  open  window  in  one 
gory  heap,  in  the  haste  and  excitement  during  the 
fighting  around  Chattanooga. 

Fifteen  years  after,  the  war  I  visited  at  Amnicola. 
"While  there  we  were  looking  over  some  old  papers,  and 
among  them  we  found  a  plain  gold  ring  with  a  writ- 
ten paper  attached,  and  its  history  was  given  to  me. 
While  the  hospital  was  in  the  house  one  of  the  mastiffs 
was  seen  in  the  yard  with  an  arm  in  his  mouth.  The 
arm  had  been  amputated  near  the  shoulder.     It  was 


INTERESTING    INCIDENTS  AND  EXPERIENCES.     43 

white  and  round,  almost  as  if  it  had  been  a  girl's,  and 
on  one  of  the  fingers  was  this  ring.  The  arm  was  res- 
cued and  buried,  and  Crutehfield  tried  to  find  the 
owner  of  the  ring.  Failing,  he  had  filed  it  away 
among  his  papers. 

He  had  over  thirty  thousand  dollars  in  gold  belong- 
ing to  himself  and  his  mother  buried  just  inside  the 
garden  paling,  and  under  the  trees  at  the  foot  of  the 
orchard  before  the  troops  took  possession.  The  gold 
in  the  garden,  some  twelve  thousand  dollars,  with 
other  valuables,  was  contained  in  six  common  glass 
jars,  such  as  druggists  use.  At  the  foot  of  the  orchard 
the  sod  was  carefully  removed  in  a  square,  the  deep 
pit  dug,  the  sod  replaced  and  the  dirt  carried  away  in 
quilts.  Early  the  following  day  the  pear  trees  were 
trimmed  and  the  branches  scattered  carefully  over  the 
ground. 

When  the  soldiers  came  rifle  pits  were  dug  in  the 
garden  not  three  yards  away  from  where  the  jars  were 
buried.  Tom's  mother  lived  with  him;  her  love  for 
the  hidden  gold  was  a  very  strong  trait  in  her  charac- 
ter. "When  they  began  digging  the  pits  inside  the  gar- 
den the  old  lady  came  rushing  out  in  a  frenzy  of  ex- 
citement. Tom  caught  hold  of  her  arm  and  silenced 
her  outcry.  The  officer  superintending  the  work  was 
curious  to  know  what  she  was  so  wild  about.  Said 
Tom,  when  he  told  me  story :  "I  had  to  manufacture 
a  lie,  so  I  told  him  ma  had  some  very  choice  bulbs 
along  the  border,  and  I  actually  hunted  up  every  old 
tulip  and  lily  root  and  filled  my  handkerchief ,  to  give 
color  to  the  story. ' ' 

The  gold  inside  the  fence,  which  was  soon  torn 
down,  remained  in  the  ground,  and  was  fought  and 
trampled  over  until  the  place  was  vacated. 

Only  three  persons  knew  where  this  gold  (and  that 
at  the  foot  of  the  orchard)  was  buried,  and  one  of 
these  was  a  negro,  faithful,  loyal  old  John,  who  helped 


44  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

to  hide  it,  and  also  to  resurrect  it.  "I  would  have 
trusted  him,"  said  Crutchfield,  "with  all  I  loved  on 
earth,  as  I  more  than  once  had  to  do. ' ' 

While  in  Georgia  I  visited  at  Lagrange  also.  There 
I  met  with  a  number  of  refugees  from  New  Orleans. 
Among  them  was  Mrs.  Phillips,  the  woman  sent  by 
Gen.  Butler  to  Ship  Island  for  singing  the  "Bonnie 
Blue  Flag"  while  the  funeral  cortege  of  Colonel  Drew 
was  passing  the  house,  and  various  other  foolish  de- 
vices to  attract  attention ;  or,  I  will  do  her  the  justice 
to  say  she  thought  it  was  patriotic,  possibly,  as  her 
sympathy  was  very  strong  for  the  South.  She  was 
very  handsome,  and  had  three  or  four  of  the  most 
beautiful,  but  ill-bred,  children  I  ever  had  the  misfor- 
tune to  meet.  We  lodged  in  the  same  hotel,  and  it 
was  a  treat  to  see  their  style  at  the  table,  acting  as  if 
in  their  own  private  family,  and  helping  themselves 
to  the  food  as  if  no  one  else  was  at  the  table,  utterly 
ignored  by  the  mother,  who  would  look  up  and  down 
the  table,  and,  if  a  stranger  was  present,  begin  in 
some  way  the  story  of  her  Ship  Island  experience  es- 
pecially for  the  new  comer's  benefit.  Even  those  who 
sympathized  in  the  most  active  manner  with  the  South 
had  many  a  sly  laugh  when  we  heard  the  oft-told  Ship 
Island  story  from  the  lips  of  the  very  pretty  woman, 
as  she  rehearsed  the  cruelties  heaped  upon  her  by  But- 
ler's orders. 

I  suppose  no  one  was  ever  more  cordially  hated  than 
Butler  was  in  the  whole  South,  owing  to  the  order  he 
issued  that  "any  woman  who  insulted  an  officer 
should  be  treated  as  a  woman  of  the  town."  One  can 
see  how  much  opportunity  was  here  given  to  men  who 
were  not  all  born  gentlemen,  even  if  wearing  officers' 
clothing,  when  the  people,  proud  and  high-spirited, 
had  to  submit  to  many  things  that  were  hard  to  en- 
dure. I  think  that  no  order  issued  during  the  war 
was  so  bitterly  resented  as  this,  or  caused  more  hate. 


INTERESTING  EnXIDEXTS  AND  EXPERIENCES.     45 

I  received  a  note  one  day  saying  that  if  I  would  go 
to  a  certain  drug  store  in  Montgomery  I  would  get 
some  news  from  my  husband.  He  was  in  New  York 
and  I  had  not  heard  from  him  for  months.  I  went 
immediately  and  stated  my  name,  handing  the  note  I 
had  received.  I  was  silently  ushered  into  a  back 
room,  passed  through  another  room,  then  entered  a 
large  warehouse  where  a  cleared  space  about  eight  feet 
square  was  surrounded  by  boxes,  bales  and  jugs.  Two 
chairs  were  set  there,  and  my  conductor  said:  "Sit 
down  here,  and  a  gentleman  will  come  to  see  you. ' '  I 
sat  waiting  perhaps  ten  minutes — it  seemed  to  me  as 
many  hours — when  suddenly,  from  whence  I  knew 
not,  a  tall  man  slipped  from  behind  me  and  took 
the  vacant  chair,  giving  his  name  as  he  did  so.  He 
was  just  from  New  York,  and  had  run  the  ocean  block- 
ade into  Mobile,  and  in  this  way  laid  the  foundation 
for  his  large  fortune  which  he  made  after  the  war. 

I  had  seen  only  Confederate  clothing  worn  for  two 
years,  and  despite  my  anxiety  and  embarrassment,  I 
was  fairly  wild  to  laugh,  so  strange  did  the  wide-toed 
boots,  on  the  enormously  big  feet,  draped  in  extremely 
wide  trousers,  look.  He  was  over  six  feet  tall,  and 
what  with  his  dress,  his  mustache  and  his  mysterious 
manner,  I  thought  of  Mephistopheles  in  comedy,  and 
I  never  saw  this  man  afterwards  that  I  did  not  recall 
this  feeling  of  fear  and  distrust  that  crept  over  me  as 
he  talked.  He  gave  me  the  news  I  expected,  declaring 
that  he  could  not  bring  better,  but  had  parted  with 
Mr.  S.  six  weeks  before  in  New  York. 


46  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

VIII. 
FAREWELL  TO  THE  OLD  HOME. 

NO  LETTERS  came  from  friends,  and,  as  each 
dreadful  report  from  the  West  came  in,  I 
longed  to  go  to  my  dear  old  father ;  it  became 
a  fever  that  seemed  to  burn  me  up.  Sleeping  or  wak- 
ing, I  could  not  tear  my  thoughts  from  him.  He  . 
seemed  to  need  me.  My  idolized  father,  oh,  where  was 
he  ?  I  was  so  helpless,  so  lonely.  I  wrote  to  my  only 
half  brother,  then  stationed  at  Meridian,  Miss.,  and 
told  him  I  was  going  to  try  to  make  my  way  to  our 
father  in  Arkansas.  My  brother,  I  found,  was  suffer- 
ing from  the  same  anxiety  as  myself.  I  naturally 
traced  this  feeling  on  his  part  as  well  as  my  own  to  I 
the  fact  that  the  death  of  his  eldest  son  must  be  a 
source  of  great  distress  to  our  father. 

It  was  finally  decided  that  I  would,  with  my  two 
children,  a  son  and  daughter,  aged  respectively  twelve 
and  fourteen,  secure  a  pass  from  the  Governor,  John 
Gill  Shorter,  and  pass  through  the  lines.  My  route  to 
Arkansas  would  take  me  by  way  of  Meridian,  where 
my  brother  was. 

As  rapidly  as  my  arrangements  could  be  made,  I 
prepared  to  go.  My  Confederate  money  I  turned  into 
gold,  buying  wherever  I  could  and  giving  a  boat  load 
of  paper  for  a  handful  of  gold.  Shut  up  in  my  room, 
I  sewed  twenty  and  five  and  ten-dollar  gold  pieces  in 
three  belts  for  myself  and  my  children.  I  made  a 
yoke-shaped  belt  for  myself,  and  quilted  it  completely 
full  of  twenty-dollar  gold  pieces.  I  foolishly  failed  to 
try  to  wear  it  before  starting  away.  I  thought  of  the 
youth  and  frailty  of  my  children,  and  carefully  meas- 
ured the  burthen  I  put  upon  them,  but,  woman-like, 
I  failed  to  think  of  myself,  on  whom  so  much  de- 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  OLD  HOME.  47 

pended. 

A  young  friend  that  I  had  known  from  her  baby- 
hood was  about  to  be  married,  and  she  came  to  me  to 
beg  thatj  as  I  was  going  inside  the  Union  lines,  I  would 
sell  her  all  my  best  and  finest  clothing.  It  was  a  God- 
send to  me,  for  I  felt  as  though  I  could  never  again 
wear  the  gay  garments  of  a  fashionable  woman,  and  I 
was  unable  to  carry  the  things  I  possessed  on  this 
journey,  so  I  let  her  select  all  she  wished  and  took 
my  pay  in  the  "coin  of  the  country,"  Confederate 
money,  at  5  cents  on  the  dollar.  My  salmon-colored 
brocade  silk,  trimmed  with  lovely  lace,  worn  the  last 
time  I  was  ever  dressed  in  full  ball  costume,  was  sold 
for  a  thousand  dollars,  and  a  velvet  cloak,  black  silks 
and  all  sorts  of  things  went  for  like  large  sums,  which 
I  turned  into  gold  as  fast  as  I  could,  and  with  the 
rest  paid  my  expenses  as  far  as  I  could  use  it.  My 
diamonds  I  sewed  inside  my  clothing;  they  were  few, 
but  valuable. 

My  friends,  learning  that  I  was  going  away,  com- 
menced sending  in  the  lunch  for  our  journey.  One  of 
the  largest  kind  of  baskets  and  two  smaller  ones  for 
the  children  to  carry  were  prepared,  and  I  certainly 
have  reason  to  believe  my  friends  prized  me  highly, 
for  notwithstanding  it  was  in  the  terrible  time  of  deso- 
lation that  I  have  described,  my  lunch  was  two  whole 
hams,  chicken,  cake,  butter,  Maryland  biscuits,  some 
fine  French  brandy  and  preserves  enough  to  last  us 
the  entire  trip  if  we  succeeded  in  getting  through  the 
lines. 

My  pass  from  the  Governor  gave  me  an  escort,  but 
none  could  be  found.  So,  after  selling  everything  but 
my  dearest  treasures,  we  turned  away  from  the  life- 
long home,  never  to  again  rest  for  long  anywhere  in 
"this  great  wide  fool's  paradise  of  shams  and  lies." 

In  Montgomery  I  parted  with  my  darling  old  foster- 
mother.     She  it  was  who  first  held  me  in  her  hands 


4S  WAR    TIME    RE^ITN'ISCENCES. 

when  the  world's  strong  light  streamed  into  my  baby 
eyes,  who  had  pillowed  my  childish  head  in  my  early 
orphanage  on  her  tender  breast,  who  had  comforted 
me  in  my  first  sorrows  of  motherhood,  almost  a  child 
myself;  who  had  nursed  my  children  and  shrouded 
my  darlings  in  death.  How  I  loved  her!  How  we 
wept  and  clung  together,  her  tear-wet  black  face 
pressed  against  my  rosy  one — the  best,  the  truest,  the 
tenderest  friend  that  ever  a  woman  claimed!  My. 
dying  mother  had  laid  me  in  her  arms,  and  the  last 
sound  that  had  filled  her  ears  was  not  my  father's 
words  of  love,  but  this  black  woman's  promise  of  fealty 
and  love  to  her  child,  as  she  took  me  from  the  fast 
stiffening  arms,  and  by  my  mother 's  request  sealed  her 
promise  with  a  kiss  on  the  cold  lips  of  the  young 
mother. 

This  woman  wras  loyal  to  me  with  a  love  born  of 
God 's  own  truth ;  and,  in  my  deepest  sorrow,  I  found 
in  her  my  tenderest  friend.  May  my  God  for- 
get me  and  my  children  despise  me,  when  I 
forget  the  love,  the  devotion  and  self-abnega- 
tion of  my  negro  servants  and  friends,  both  before 
and  after  the  terrible  war  was  over.  I  am  glad  to  give 
this  public  tribute  to  the  race  that  was  so  loyal  to  me 
and  mine,  and  thereby  earned  my  deathless  gratitude. 

We  went  from  Montgomery  to  Selma,  and  then  to 
Meridian.  So  far  there  had  been  little  trouble  and 
our  railway  travel  was  unbroken.  At  Meridian  I  met 
my  brother  and  was  a  guest  in  the  house  of  an  old 
schoolmate,  and  here  a  pass  was  obtained  from  General 
Johnston. 

My  traveling  basket  of  lunch  was  a  God-send,  for  I 
had  an  opportunity  of  sharing  my  good  things  all 
along  the  line.  I  met  for  the  first  time  with  Captain 
Henderson,  and  we  shared  our  lunch  with  him  and  a 
lady  friend  we  met  on  the  train.  Some  distance  from 
Meridian  we  found  the  railroad  torn  up  and  from 
there  the  trip  had  to  be  made  in  wagons.     I  had  two 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  OLD  HOME.  49 

trunks  and  two  children.  Captain  Henderson  arranged 
for  me  to  go  with  my  daughter  in  the  ambulance  of 
^General  Dan  Adams,  and  he  took  my  two  trunks  and 
my  son  in  General  Featherstone 's  ambulance  by  an- 
other route  to  Canton.  We  were  to  meet  at  that  point 
on  the  morning  of  the  following  day.  The  small 
pocket  diary  that  I  took  notes  in  was  lost,  and  my 
memory  is  not  clear  on  the  breaks  on  this  road,  but  I 
think  I  can  locate  the  main  events  correctly. 

"We  left  home  about  the  middle  of  November,  and 
the  weather  was  growing  cool.  Captain  Henderson 
introduced  me  to  General  Adams.  He  was  a  small 
man,  and  though  pleasant  in  manner,  seemed  rather 
taciturn.  I  thought  our  conversation  during  our  trip 
went  over  a  vast  deal  of  ground,  frequently  shared  by 
the  young  Confederate  soldier  that  drove  the  magnifi- 
cent team  of  black  mules.  As  evening  came  on  the 
general  was  taken  with  a  violent  fit  of  vomiting,  and 
his  sufferings  were  terrible.  I  had,  woman-like,  car- 
ried a  lot  of  medicine,  and  securely  tucked  away  in 
the  bottom  of  my  basket  was  a  bottle  of  fine  brandy, 
still  unopened,  that  my  nephew  had  given  me.  There 
was  no  intention  of  stopping ;  we  expected  to  travel  all 
night,  so  as  to  reach  our  destination  in  time.  The 
general  became  so  ill  that  he  took  my  medicine  like  a 
child.  At  last  I  insisted  that  he  should  lie  down.  I 
unrolled  my  shawls,  adjusted  a  pillow,  and  taking  out 
the  seat,  I  sat  on  the  floor  by  his  side.  He  became  so 
ill  that  we  had  to  stop  at  a  farmhouse  for  a  few 
hours,  when  he  grew  somewhat  better.  After  this 
rest  we  again  started  and  drove  through  the  woods 
and  swamps  between  3  and  7  o'clock.  We  had  no 
lamps,  and  it  aroused  my  admiration  to  see  how  the 
young  fellow  bowled  along  in  the  darkness,  rarely 
ever  striking  a  stump  or  root.  As  we  drove  into  Can- 
ton and  down  to  the  depot  I  was  rejoiced  to  see  my 
boy    and    Captain    Henderson  waiting  for  us.     My 


50  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

trunks  were  thrown  on  the  train,  I  had  a  few  words 
with  him,  a  hurried  farewell,  and  we  were  soon  under 
way.  „ 

At  the  next  break  in  the  railway  I  met  with  Captain 
Barclay,  who  took  us  as  far  as  some  station  this  side 
of  Como,  and  then  I  was  left  with  two  children,  two 
trunks  and  nothing  in  sight  save  a  ravine,  down  which 
we  scrambled,  leaving  our  trunks  behind.  I  saw  a 
house  on  the  further  side,  a  bridge  had  been  burned, 
and  it  was  down  and  up  the  embankment  that  we  had 
to  make  our  way. 

Captain  Barclay  had  pointed  out  dangers  and  hor- 
rors of  every  character  and  urged  my  return,  but  I 
was  determined  to  press  on  to  Memphis.  My  first 
intention  had  been  to  reach  Vicksburg  and  cross  there 
into  Arkansas,  but  my  brother,  for  some  reason  or 
impression  he  could  scarcely  define,  preferred  my  go- 
ing to  Memphis.  It  was  for  this  reason  I  took  the 
route  I  did. 

I  approached  the  half-ruined  house  and  saw  a  half 
dozen  men  standing  or  lying  about.  A  great,  red- 
whiskered  man  was  resting  on  his  elbow,  lying  at  full 
length  on  the  platform.  For  some  reason  I  can't  tell 
why,  I  adressed  myself  to  this  man,  although  I  said 
"gentlemen,"  and  swept  the  crowd  in  my  vision  as  I 
began  speaking,  but  soon  fixed  my  eyes  on  the  man 
lying  on  the  floor. 

I  briefly  stated  my  condition,  and  asked  if  there  was 
a  chance  to  secure  a  conveyance  to  Como.  The  men 
laughed,  but  the  red-haired  fellow  stared  silently  at 
me  without  a  word.  Every  house  had  been  burned; 
the  sun  was  sinking  fast.  It  was  some  eight  miles  to 
Como.  I  gained  this  much  by  questioning,  and  that 
a  handcar  was  the  means  of  communication. 

"Look  here,"  I  said  to  the  big  man,  "I  am  alone; 
I  have  my  two  trunks  over  there:  I  have  these  two 
children,  and  I  am  trying  to  reach  my  father  in  Arkau- 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  OLD  HOME.  51 

sas.  I  want  to  go  to  Como.  What  will  you  take  me 
for?  I  have  Confederate  money.  I  will  not  need  it 
after  reaching  Senatobia.  I  will  pay  you  well  to  carry 
me  to  Como  on  a  handcar." 

""What  about  your  trunks?"  he  asked. 

"Won't  some  of  you  bring  them  over?  I  am  a  wo- 
man, and  alone.  I  throw  myself  on  your  care,  your 
manliness.  Help  me  as  you  would  want  a  man  to 
help  your  womankind,  mother  or  wife,  in  my  condi- 
tion," I  said  as  rapidly  as  I  could. 

The  big  man  then  rose  from  his  sprawling  attitude, 
pulled  up  his  loosely  hung  trousers,  thrust  his  hands 
as  far  as  he  could  into  his  pockets,  and  said : 

"That's  the  talk,  boys!  Get  them  trunks  over; 
we'll  pull  out  two  handcars  and  set  the  missus  down 
at  Como.  By  golly,  no  woman  can  say  that  sort  of 
thing  to  me  and  not  get  help. ' ' 

I  was  so  worn  and  nervous  I  could  only  bow  my 
thanks,  while  the  tears  filled  my  eyes  and  fell  on  my 
cheeks. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  we  were  on  a  handcar.  A 
square  boarding  was  hooked  in  some  way  between  the 
two  cars,  and  two  men  on  each  end  pulling  with  all 
their  might.  When  we  reached  Como  it  was  almost 
dusk.  I  took  out  my  roll  of  Confederate  money  and 
said:    " What  do  I  owe  you ? " 

"A  hundred  dollars  apiece,  I  guess,"  said  my  red- 
haired  knight  with  the  slouched  hat  and  baggy  trous- 
ers. I  gave  him  one  thousand,  saying  that  I  would 
not  need  it  when  I  crossed  the  lines.  My  escort  started 
back,  waving  their  hats  and  cheering  a  lusty  farewell 
to  us  as  we  stood  in  the  gathering  gloom.  I  hastily 
ran  up  the  path  that  led  to  Dr.  Sim  Tate's  home,  that 
still  stood  unburned.  to  se  if  I  could  remain  the  night 
over  at  his  house.  I  was  cordially  welcomed,  and  met 
there  two  men  on  their  way  to  Senatobia,  walking  on 
the  road.    I  prepared  and  sent  a  note  to  my  husband's 


52  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

uncle,  requesting  him  to  send  a  conveyance  to  meet  me 
at  Como,  I  to  remain  at  Tate's  until  it  came. 

That  evening  when  our  excellent  supper  was  over 
Mrs.  Tate  invited  me  to  sit  with  her  until  bedtime.  I 
saw  all  the  surroundings  of  wealth  and  luxury,  and 
in  a  great  measure  they  had  escaped  the  horrors  of 
war,  and  it  was  indeed  a  relief  to  sleep  our  weariness 
away  in  a  comfortable  bed. 


■  ■  ■',.' 


A  NIGHT  OF  TERROR.  53 

IX. 

A  NIGHT  OF  TERROR. 

AFTER  a  refreshing  night's  sleep  at  Dr.  Sim 
Tate 's  house  in  Como,  I  waited  patiently  for 
news  from  Senatobia.  About  three  o'clock 
we  saw  coming  along  the  road  a  covered  wagon,  drawn 
by  two  mules,  which  were  driven  by  a  big  negro  man. 
This  was  to  be  our  conveyance,  and  proved  to  be  the 
only  one  left  to  Mr.  Arnold,  my  husband's  uncle.  It 
looked  as  if  it  were  twenty  feet  long.  It  was  high  at 
each  end  and  covered  with  white  canvas,  or  what  had 
once  been  white. 

"Howdy,  Miss  Lizzie?  You  done  forgot  me,  but  I 
'member  you  comin'  to  our  house  in  South  Carline 
when  Mas'  Jim  was  a  boy.  Lord  a  massy,  you  was  a 
gal  den ;  now  37ou  got  two  great,  big  chillun. ' ' 

This  was  the  greeting  given  by  the  driver  as  he 
swung  my  two  heavy  trunks,  as  if  they  had  been  paper 
he  was  tossing  up,  into  the  lumbering  vehicle  we  were 
to  ride  in. 

Two  or  three  splint-bottomed  chairs  formed  our 
seats,  and  we  climbed  up  over  the  sides,  leaving  Mrs. 
Tate  waving  us  a  farewell  from  the  steps  of  her  hos- 
pitable home. 

When  I  reached  Senatobia  it  was  nearly  sunset,  and 
the  dear  old  uncle  came  to  meet  us,  while  his  witty 
Irish  wife  was  waiting  on  a  great  crowd  of  people. 

Among  the  guests  in  the  house  I  found  Mrs.  Sam 
Tate  and  Mrs.  Oliver  Greenlaw,  two  of  the  most 
prominent  and  wealthy  citizens  of  Memphis,  who  were 
refugees.  The  beautiful  residence  of  Mrs.  Greenlaw 
had  been  seized  and  was  used  for  Federal  headquar- 
ters. Mrs.  Tate  was  one  of  the  loveliest  and  most  ac- 
complished women  of  the  South. 


54  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

We  remained  there  two  or  three  days,  and,  inci- 
dentally, my  uncle  told  me  in  the  event  of  needing 
help,  or  getting  into  trouble,  to  call  on  Dr.  Foulks. 

I  thought  with  joy:  ''I  shall  go  right  out  to  Ar- 
kansas." I  had  seen  so  little  of  hostilities  that  all 
seemed  new  and  strange  to  me. 

"When  we  left  Senatobia  our  next  point  was  to 
reach  Hernando.  Beyond  that  very  little  seemed  to  be 
known  to  our  relatives  and  friends. 

We  made  the  trip  in  a  stage  in  company  with  a 
number  of  men,  and  this  was  the  last  part  of  our  trip 
in  which  we  could  use  Confederate  money,  and  for  the 
future  only  gold  or  greenbacks  could  be  used.  I  saw 
here  for  the  first  time  a  greenback  bill,  but  my  uncle 
did  not  tell  me  that  we  could  use  our  money  no  fur- 
ther than  this  point.  Our  driver  halted  at  a  small 
cottage  in  the  woods,  and  here  we  were  left,  the  men 
all  going  on  foot  in  different  ways.  I  was  told  by  the 
man  he  could  not  go  on  to  town  and  it  was  a  little 
way  further  on.  The  only  occupant  of  the  house  was 
a  mean-looking,  ferret-faced  man,  who  helped  carry 
our  trunks  inside.    The  driver  hurried  back. 

I  called  the  man  who  kept  the  house  and  inquired 
concerning  our  trip  to  Memphis.  For  the  first  time  I 
found  that  I  could  pass  Confederate  money  no  longer, 
not  even  here.  I  had  a  large  sum  in  gold,  as  before 
stated. 

He  told  me  my  trip  into  Memphis,  a  distance  of 
twenty-three  miles,  was  to  be  paid  in  gold,  twenty-five 
dollars;  my  night's  lodging  five  dollars  in  gold.  I 
did  not  know  it  was  at  a  premium  of  50  cents  on  the 
dollar. 

We  were  to  start  in  the  morning  early,  and  while  I 
had  been  out  inquiring  for  and  securing  a  team  and 
driver,  the  landlord  had  been  questioning  my  son  in  a 
way  that  aroused  niy  fears. 

We  ate  our  supper,  which  was  prepared  by  a  small 


A  NIGHT  OF  TEKHOR.  55 

black  -woman,  who  disappeared  as  soon  as  she  cooked 
it.    I  tried  to  find  her,  and  was  told  she  had  left. 

A  man  kept  a  few  cigars,  candy,  lemons  and  such 
things  in  the  small  shed  room  oft"  the  portico.  I  bought 
from  him  two  or  three  candles,  as  I  had  only  a  small 
piece  hardly  longer  than  my  finger. 

I  was  compelled  to  change  a  ten  dollar  gold  piece 
with  this  man,  and  I  saw  the  covetous  greed  in  his  eyes 
as  he  took  the  coin. 

"Where  did  you  come  from?"  he  asked,  as  he 
handed  me  the  money. 

' '  I  answered :    ' '  From  Senatobia. ' ' 

"Why,  Jim  said  you  came  from  Alabama,"  was 
his  hasty  response. 

I  knew  "at  once  that  the  landlord  had  obtained  this 
information  from  my  son,  whom  I  had  failed  to  cau- 
tion. I  went  to  my  room  and  found  that  the  sliding 
bolt  had  been  removed  from  the  inside  of  the  door, 
for  I  had  certainly  slipped  it  on  entering  the  room 
first;  the  lock  was  broken  and  was  no  security  what- 
ever. 

In  those  terrible  times  life  was  so  cheap,  and  the 
loneliness  of  our  situation  so  great,  the  fact  of  the  sums 
of  gold  I  had  about  me,  and  the  looks  of  the  man  I  had 
met  in  the  shop  outside,  all  conspired  to  arouse  my 
fears. 

My  children,  utterly  tired  out,  were  sleeping  the 
sleep  of  childhood,  sound  and  sweet.  My  boy  was  a 
brave,  manly  fellow,  although  hardly  twelve  years  old. 
It  was  cold,  and  I  would  not  let  them  undress.  We 
had  no  fire,  so  they  laid  down  in  their  clothing.  I 
piled  our  rugs  around  them  and  sat  down  to  write  my 
last  letter  to  our  friends. 

I  wrote  rapidly  and  was  absorbed  entirely  in  my 
letter,  when  I  thought  I  heard  a  soft  step  outside.  I 
had  a  pistol  in  my  pocket,  and  no  man  could  send  a 
bullet  straighter  to  its  mark  than  I.    I  stepped  to  the 


56  WAR    TEUE    REMINISCENCES. 

door  and  flung  it  wide  open.  A  candle  had  been  burn- 
ing in  a  bottle  outside,  but  the  candle  was  gone,  and 
in  the  darkness  the  landlord  was  standing,  in  his 
stocking  feet,  but  a  few  steps  from  the  door. 

"I  thought  I  heard  you,"  I  said;  "I  am  glad  you 
are  here.  I  want  to  ask  you  some  questions.  Come 
in." 

I  did  not  turn  my  back  to  return  to  my  chair.  I 
stepped  back  and  motioned  for  him  to  pass  me.  He 
did  so,  glancing  toward  the  bed  where  the  children 
lay,  and  took  one  of  the  two  chairs  in  the  room.  I 
drew  the  other  toward  me  with  my  left  hand,  and  as 
I  sat  down  I  drew  my  right  hand  from  my  pocket  with 
the  pistol  in  it. 

"This  is  a  very  lonely  place,"  I  said,  "and  in 
troublous  times  like  these  it  seems  a  poor  place  to  sleep 
in  with  neither  lock  nor  bolt  on  the  door.  How  am  I 
to  fasten  it?" 

' c  Nobody  is  going  to  hurt  you, ' '  he  said  sneeringly. 
"I  only  came  to  ask  you  what  time  you  wanted  to  be 
called  in  the  moraine.  What  are  vou  doing  with  that 
pistol?" 

"I  am  only  holding  it  in  my  hand  now,"  I  said 
quietly,  "and  I  expect  to  be  up  all  night.  I  have  much 
writing  to  do.  I  have  carried  this  pistol  in  my  pocket 
ever  since  I  left  home ;  it  is  heavy  and  I  am  tired.  I 
have  not  had  any  use  for  it,  and  it  is  not  likely  that  I 
shall,  but  if  there  should  be  any  need  to  use  it,  I  shall 
most  certainly  do  it.  I  bought  the  candles  because  I 
expected  to  write  all  night.  I  wanted  the  negro  wo- 
man to  stay  in  my  room  with  me  tonight.  Why  did 
she  go  away?" 

"She  goes  home  eveiy  night;  she  never  sleeps  here," 
was  his  reply. 

"Very  well,"  I  answered;  "I  am  not  a  good  sleeper 
at  any  time." 

"I'll  bet  you  couldn't  hit  the  side  of  a  house  if  you 


A  NIGHT  OF  TERROR.  57 

did  shoot,"  he  said,  in  a  sort  of  laughing  tone,  as  he 
rose  from  his  chair  and  lounged  toward  the  door.  As 
he  pulled  to  the  door  the  look  on  his  face  was  so  strange 
and  changed,  in  the  flare  of  the  candle,  that  it  seemed 
another  face,  so  terrible  and  frowning  was  it. 

I  took  mjT  scissors  that  lay  on  the  table  and  thrust 
them  into  the  broken  lock  as  a  weak  barrier  against 
intrusion. 

I  took  my  seat  at  the  table  and  wrote  rapidly  for  a 
few  seconds,  when  I  distinctly  heard  a  stick  break 
as  if  under  a  heavy  tread,  right  by  the  window.  It 
was  closed  and  a  thin  white  curtain  was  over  it. 

''Walter,"  I  called,  as  I  drew  the  cover  from  the 
tired  child,  "get  up  quick."  He  was  awake  in  a  mo- 
ment. I  told  him  how  uneasy  I  felt  and  what  had 
occurred. 

The  little  chap  got  out  of  bed  and  opened  his  trunk. 
He  had  put  a  bundle  of  nails  and  a  hammer  in  his 
trunk  and  he  soon  had  half  a  do2en  nails  driven  in  the 
door  and  two  in  the  window.  Then,  taking  out  a  book, 
he  took  a  seat  by  the  table,  as  if  to  read  all  night.  I 
wrote  and  he  read  for  an  hour.  I  lit  another  candle, 
and  by  tins  time  he  seemed  so  tired  I  urged  him  to 
lie  down,  which  at  last  he  did.  My  daughter  slept 
soundly  all  the  while. 

I  felt  so  certain  that  some  one  was  watching  me  that 
at  last  I  blew  out  my  candle,  s'ipped  off  my  shoes  and 
crept  to  the  window  on  my  knees.  I  quietly  listened 
and  peeped  through  the  side  of  the  curtain.  It  was 
dark  outside,  not  a  thing  to  be  seen,  but  I  distinctly 
heard  two  men  talking  in  a  very  low  tone  and  seem- 
ingly near  the  window.  They  were  seated  on  the  end 
of  the  portico  in  front  of  the  house,  on  the  same  side 
as  the  window.  I  at  last  made  this  out,  but 
my  heart  beat  so  loudly  it  seemed  to  be  in  my  ears 
instead  of  my  breast.    Just  then  I  heard  the  knob  of 


58  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

niy  door  turned. 

I  rose  from  my  knees  by  the  window  and  crept  to 
the  side  of  my  son's  bed.  His  soft  breathing  was  all 
I  heard  save  the  barking  of  a  dog  in  the  passageway. 

No  landlord  came  and  no  breakfast  was  served.  The 
man  who  kept  the  little  stall  of  goods  said  he  was  to 
collect  the  fare  for  our  night 's  lodging ;  that  the  land- 
lord had  to  go  to  some  sale  in  the  country  and  would 
get  no  breakfast,  but  he  would  give  us  a  cup  of  hot 
coffee  for  a  dollar.  I  asked  if  he  slept  there ;  he  said 
no,  he  went  up  to  his  house,  and  pointed  to  it  in  the 
distance.  We  took  three  cups  of  coffee  and  gave  him 
his  dollar  in  greenbacks. 

Our  driver  came,  and  with  the  children  seated  on 
our  trunks  and  I  on  the  seat  with  the  driver,  we  rode 
through  a  blinding  drizzle  of  rain  to  Memphis.  We 
met  one  or  two  Confederate  soldiers  who  seemed  to 
be  dashing  away  from  pursuit.  They  rode  into  the 
woods  at  the  side  of  the  road. 

Some  distance  ahead  a  half  dozen  Federal  soldiers 
stopped  us  and  questioned  our  taciturn  driver. 

"Did  you  see  any  Confeds  cross  the  road  below 
here?" 

"No,"  was  the  prompt  response.  "Haven't  met 
a  darned  thing  but  a  cow  since  I  left  Hernando. ' ' 

Walter  gave  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  but  I 
promptly  pumped  my  elbow  into  his  breast,  as  he  sat 
right  behind  me.  This  gave  him  something  else  to 
concern  himself  about  and  the  driver  lashed  his  horses 
and  drove  on. 

"You  little  fool,"  said  the  driver,  looking  back  at 
the  boy,  "you  like  to  have  played  hob,  didn't  you?" 

This  was  about  all  he  said  during  the  whole  trip. 

My  hand  is  so  painful  that  I  can  write  no  more  at 
this  time.  Still  more  painful  is  the  memory  of  those 
days  in  Memphis,  brought  to  my  mind  by  my  diary, 
as  it  lies  here  before  me,  stained  with  tears  and  yellow 
with  asre. 


THE  LEADINGS  OF  PROVIDENCE.        59 

X. 

THE  LEADINGS  OF  PROVIDENCE. 

ON  ENTERING  Memphis  we  went  at  once  to 
the  old  Gayoso  Hotel,  then  in  good  condition, 
and  the  best  hotel.  It  was  indeed  a  noble 
building,  and  its  front  of  heavy  stone,  facing  the  bluff, 
made  a  fine  appearance.  It  was  afterwards  seized  by 
the  Federals  and  used  for  some  purpose,  and  finally 
became  a  sort  of  rookery  for  negroes  and  outcasts.  In 
the  last  few  years  it  has  been  rebuilt  and  added  to,  un- 
til it  is  now  again  a  very  fine  and  popular  house. 

Mr.  Galloway,  then  a  clerk  in  the  house,  gave  me  a 
note  of  introduction  to  Mr.  Knowlton,  to  enable  me 
to  get  some  clothing  I  needed,  for  the  cold  was  intense. 
It  seemed  strange  to  a  free-born  woman  to  come  sud- 
denly under  the  rules  of  a  military  government,  and 
to  get  permission  to  buy  a  few  clothes. 

I  went  to  the  provost  marshal,  a  man  named  Wil- 
liams, to  get  a  permit  to  go  to  Arkansas.  He  refused 
my  request,  saying  that  no  permits  were  being  granted. 
On  the  first  day  of  my  stay  in  Memphis  I  met  an  old 
acquaintance,  Americus  Hatchett,  who  urged  me,  in 
the  most  imploring  manner,  not  to  think  of  going  into 
the  torn  and  distracted  State.  Truly,  the  reports  were 
of  an  awful  character,  wild  as  a  Dantean  picture  of 
hell.  The  State  was  torn  and  distracted  by  the  raiding 
and  robbing  from  both  armies,  and  all  who  could  were 
leaving  it. 

I  had  a  daughter  only  fourteen  years  of  age.  I  was 
unprotected  save  by  a  son,  twelve  years  old.  As  we 
had  nothing  to  keep  us  in  Memphis  longer,  I  decided 
to  go  at  once  to  New  York  and  join  my  husband,  from 
whom  I  had  not  heard  in  many  months.  I  tried  to 
telegraph  to  him.  but  the  lines  were  cut,  and  it  was 


60  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

impossible  to  telegraph  before  reaching  Cairo. 

I  had  never  in  my  life  seen  my  father  wear  a  beard, 
yet  for  weeks  I  had  seen,  when  sleeping,  an  old  gray 
head,  with  long  white  beard  and  eyes  like  stars  paling 
before  the  daylight  gleam,  so  blue,  so  sad !  With  this 
vision  always  came  the  feeling  as  if  some  one  told  me 
to  go  to  him;  he  needed  me.  That  last  night  in  my 
room  at  the  Gayoso  Hotel  I  saw  this  venerable  head 
more  plainly  than  ever,  and  never  did  human  eyes 
seem  so  sad  before.  "Help  him,  dear  God,"  I  cried; 
"help  him!  I  desert  him  not  willingly,  thou  who 
seest  my  heart  doth  truly  know!"  I  answered  the 
pleading  look  as  I  would  have  answered  spoken  words. 

I  went  on  board  the  boat  bound  for  Cairo  at  five 
o'clock.  It  was  announced  to  leave  at  eight.  I  had 
not  then  a  friend  in  Memphis  that  I  was  aware  of; 
yet  something  urged  me  not  to  go.  On  board  the 
Commercial  the  longing  became  a  sort  of  maniacal 
craving.  I  went  out  and  walked  the  guards  in  the  bit- 
ter cold.  I  went  back  and  tried  to  read,  but  to  no 
purpose.  The  feeling  was  too  strong  to  be  put  down. 
Once  I  even  started  my  son  to  ask  the  captain  to  re- 
fund my  money,  that  I  might  return  to  the  city.  Sum- 
moning all  my  reasoning  faculties.  I  beat  (what  I 
called)  the  foolish  fancy  down. 

There  were  dozens  of  women  on  board,  and  usually 
I  soon  made  acquaintances.  Now  I  saw  no  one.  My 
soul  was  travailing  in  sorrow  and  anguish,  such  as 
before  nor  since  my  life  holds  nothing  to  equal. 

Summoned  to  the  table,  I  sat  beside  the  captain. 
Vainly  he  urged  me  to  eat,  and  tried  to  enter  into 
conversation  with  me.  An  iron  hand  seemed  to  be 
clutching  my  throat,  and  the  effort  to  swallow  was 
torture.  With  an  excuse  I  left  the  table,  and  going 
back  to  the  cabin,  took  a  little  child  my  son  was  hold- 
ing for  a  lady  who  had  gone  to  the  table.  I  sent  him 
to  my  own  seat  at  the  table  and  held  the  child  until 


THE  LEADINGS  OF  PROVIDENCE.  61 

she  came.  When  she  returned  she  took  the  infant 
and  thanked  me  for  holding  it. 

I  now  spoke  for  the  first  time  to  any  one  beside  the 
captain.  "Pray,  madam,"  I  asked,  "from  what  part 
of  our  ppor,  distracted  country  are  you  going?" 

"Batesville,  Arkansas,"  she  replied. 

"Oh,"  I  cried,  in  joyful  surprise,  "it  is  my  father's 
home !  Can  you  tell  me  anything  of  him  ?  His  name 
is  Andrew  Lyle. ' ' 

She  was  standing  before  me  looking  down  at  me. 
She  grasped  my  arm  and  cried :  ' '  Oh,  leave  the  boat, 
madam,  quick,  quick!  She  is  firing  up;  we  will  be 
carried  off.  He  is  here,  in  the  Irving  block,  a  pris- 
oner.   We  heard  today  that  he  was  dying. ' ' 

My  uncle  had  filled  my  soul  with  horror  of  that 
cold  prison. 

I  said  something— asked  some  questions  to  assure 
myself  if  it  were  truly  he. 

The  next  words  dispelled  all  doubt. 

"I  knew  him  well.  He  had  two  sons,  Alex  and 
Andrew.  Alex  was  killed  at  Chickamauga.  Oh,  for 
God 's  sake,  go,  woman,  go  quick ! ' ' 

There  are  men  (for  the  boat  was  crowded  full)  who 
will  remember  the  frenzied  woman  who  rushed  through 
the  crowd  calling  for  the  captain  and  imploring  to  be 
put  on  shore. 

Dear,  good,  noble  man!  Amid  all  the  excitement 
and  worry  he  soothed  and  comforted  me.  I  forgot 
my  children  and  the  hundred  dollars  in  gold  I  had 
put  into  his  hands.  I  was  leaving  my  trunks,  my  little 
daughter,  who  was  lying  down,  everything,  in  my 
haste  to  be  gone.  I  was  shivering  until  my  teeth 
chattered,  as  with  a  hard  ague. 

The  captain  took  me  into  a  stateroom  and  said  stern- 
ly: "Madam,  control  yourself.  These  are  not  checks 
for  the  trunks;  they  are  the  five  twenty-dollar  gold 
pieces  that  you  handed  me." 


62  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

"She  said  he  was  dying,"  I  whispered,  as  I  let  the 
coins  fall  rolling  on  the  floor ;  then,  for  the  first  time 
in  all  my  strong  young  life,  I  mercifully  lost  all  con- 
ciousness. 

The  captain  caught  and  held  me  up,  and  I  was 
roused  by  his  pouring  a  glass  of  wine  all  over  me  in 
trying  to  force  it  into  my  mouth.  In  a  moment  I  was 
my  brave,  strong  self.  I  waited  for  my  daughter. 
The  captain  took  my  name  and  address,  and  promised 
that  he  would  telegraph  from  Cairo  to  my  husband, 
which  promise  was  faithfully  kept.  He  went  on  shore 
with  me  and  secured  a  hack,  saw  me  seated  in  it,  and 
urged  me  to  brace  up  and  face  the  matter  heroically. 

If  that  man  had  a  wife  I  know  he  was  good  and 
kind  to  her;  and  as  long  as  I  live  I  shall  remember 
gratefully  the  unknown  Union  captain. 

I  felt  I  could  not  go  to  the  hotel;  I  must  be  with 
women.  Where  could  I  go,  alone,  friendless,  half  sick 
from  nervous  exhaustion?  I  thought  of  a  family  to 
whom  a  Confederate  major  had  given  me  a  letter  of 
introduction,  and  I  drove  there.  How  kind  they  were, 
those  soft-eyed  French  girls!  One  of  them  sat  up 
all  night  with  me,  as  I  crouched  weeping  and  shiver- 
ing over  a  coal  fire. 

My  children  could  not  comprehend  the  situation. 
They  were  small  when  they  last  saw  their  grand- 
father, and  they  did  not  then  know,  for  they  were  too. 
young  to  understand,  the  boundless  devotion  I  held 
for  him. 

In  the  morning  I  set  out  to  find  Mr.  Hatchett,  for  I 
was  told  it  would  be  impossible  to  get  a  permit  to 
enter  the  prison  unless  some  person  of  influence  knew 
me.  I  found  him,  secured  a  boarding  place  for  myself 
and  children  in  the  large  and  aristocratic  boarding 
house  of  Mrs.  H.,  then  went  to  get  the  permit. 

I  will  not  give  names  nor  write  of  the  humiliation 
and  bitterness  of  that  time.    I  have  buried  the  hatchet 


THE  LEADINGS  OF  PROVIDENCE.  63 

and  am  not  one  to  dig  it  up ;  but  there  are  two  sides 
to  the  war  stories,  and  I  had  seen  both  of  them,  God 
knows !  .  It  took  two  days  to  get  permission  to  see 
my  father.  At  last  I  stood  inside  the  whitewashed 
palisade.  The  front  of  the  building  was  a  mass  of 
iron  bars,'  large  as  an  infant's  wrist.  Within  was 
a  motley  crowd  of  prisoners.  When  all  memories, 
the  fair  and  sweet,  shall  have  vanished  from  life,  ter- 
rible among  the  terrible  will  rise  that  awful  prison 
scene. 

The  sergeant  held  my  permit  in  his  hand  and 
shouted  my  father's  name  aloud.  The  motley  crowd 
swerved  forward.  I  was  looking  among  them  for  the 
dear  head,  crowned  with  its  clustering  curls,  as  I  had 
seen  it  last.  A  voice,  his  voice,  spoke  right  before  me : 
"Give  me  the  letter.    That  is  my  name." 

There  was  the  silver  hair,  the  long  snowy  beard, 
the  dim,  pleading  eyes  of  my  vision  for  six  weeks 
past.  Oh,  Christ!  the  memory  is  maddening  now, 
and  time  can  never,  never  soothe  the  wound ;  it  bleeds 
at  a  finger  touch.  I  cannot  write  the  details;  dozens 
know  them;  I  alone  felt  them. 

A  man,  I  afterwards  learned  his  name,  Dr.  Bates 
(himself  a  prisoner)  requested  permission  to  speak 
to  me.  ' '  If  you  would  save  him,  work  fast ;  three  days 
ends  his  life  in  here,"  he  whispered.  I  felt  it  as  we 
clasped  each  other  close,  hugging  the  cold  bars  be- 
tween our  breasts,  coarser  and  harsher  than  the  earth- 
en barrier  so  soon  to  lie  between  us. 

The  lieutenant,  a  man  named  Zeigler,  was  as  kind 
as  he  could  be,  and  did  all  he  could  to  aid  me.  He  was 
a.  Union  soldier  from  West  Virginia,  and  knew  my 
father's  people  there. 

I  think  they  said  there  were  nearly  three  hundred 
men  crowded  in  the  prison.     • 


..    . 


64  WAR    TIME    REMINISCENCES. 

XI. 

THE  VISION  FULFILLED. 

I  SHOULD  hate  to  record  on  any  page,  for  any  eye 
to  read,  all  the  horror,  the  humiliation  and  heart- 
ache of  those  three  terrible  days  before  I  pro- 
cured my  father's  release.  He  was  to  report  every 
morning.  Three  good  men  went  on  his  bond;  Dr. 
Fowlkes  was  one  of  them,  Dr.  Grant  and  Americus 
Hatchett  the  other  two. 

I  tried  to  get  a  room  for  him  where  I  was  stopping 
with  my  children ;  but  the  house  was  crowded,  and  he 
was  a  prisoner  on  parole,  accused  of  being  a  Confed- 
erate spy.  I  learned  afterwards  that  Dr.  Grant  had 
assured  the  provost  marshal  that  he  was  a  doomed 
man,  already  near  death.  I  secured  a  room  in  a 
house  the  landlady  of  which  was  formerly  an  Arkan- 
sas woman;  but  the  fireplace  smoked  badly.  I  was 
promised  another  room  as  soon  as  two  Federal  officers 
vacated,  which  they  expected  to  do  on  the  following 
day.  I  stayed  with  him,  leaving  the  children  to  sleep 
at  our  rooms  and  come  to  me  during  the  day. 

I  explained  to  my  father  all  the  chances  and  charges 
that  had  brought  me  to  him.  To  me  he  expressed  no 
opinion,  but  to  a  gentleman  who  came  in  to  see  him,  " 
a  released  prisoner  himself,  he  said :  "I  once' doubted 
special  providences,  trusted  little  in  them.  I  doubt 
no  more.  This  is  my  daughter,  from  Alabama.-  Had 
an  angel  descended  visibly  in  my  presence  and  opened 
my  prison  door  I  could  not  have  been  more  surprised 
than  when  I  saw  my  child.  My  constant  thought  had 
been  how  it  would  wring  her  heart  to  hear  how  I  had 
died." 

He  had  been  arrested  while  crossing  the  river,  hav- 


THE  VISION  FULFILLED.  65 

ing  been  reported  by  a  Confederate  knave  to  an 
equally  knavish  Federal  detective.  When  arrested  all 
his  effects  were  taken  from  him.  Eighteen  or  twenty 
thousand  dollars  in  Confederate  money  was  reported, 
two  horses,  and  his  blankets.  Sixteen  hundred  dollars 
in  currency  and  gold  was  never  reported.  It  affords 
me  satisfaction  now  to  say  that  when  the  man  who 
reported  him  as  a  spy  and  got  his  share  of  the  money 
was  robbed  of  his  ill-gotten  gains  and  murdered  while 
crossing  Hickey  Haley  swamp  in  less  than  a  month 
afterward, 

The  second  day  I  was  able  to  remove  him  to  the 
larger  room  the  officers  had  vacated.  He  seemed 
much  stronger  and  better;  threw  his  blanket  about 
him  and  walked  with  the  old  stately  stride  to  the 
room.  A  bed  was  ready  for  him,  and  a  large  couch 
standing  in  front  of  the  fireplace  was  arranged  for 
me. 

I  soon  saw  that  my  father's  strength  was  fictitious. 
Erysipelas  had  set  in  and  the  acute  bronchitis  was 
growing  rapidly  worse.  All  night  long  he  wrestled 
with  the  terrible  agony,  slowly  choking  to  death. 

I  sent  for  the  doctor — I  knew  no  one  else  to  send 
for— and  he  remained  with  me  until  he  was  called 
away  in  great  haste,  promising  to  return.  He  has 
since  proved  the  grand  secrets  of  the  other  life.  God's 
kindest  glance  be  on  him !  The  landlady  did  her  own 
cooking,  and  long  before  day  was  preparing  meals  for 
two  or  three  dozen  guests.  She  had  come  in  answer 
to  my  call  of  agony,  but  felt  compelled  to  return  to 
her  arduous  duties.  The  war  and  frequent  deaths 
rendered  people  callous. 

I  was  alone,  witnessing  agony  I  was  powerless  to 
relieve.  The  struggle  for  breath  was  the  most  awful 
thing  I  ever  witnessed.  A  man  of  powerful  physique, 
he  fouerht  death  as  he  would  have  wrestled  with  a 


66  WAR   TIME   REMINISCENCES. 

lion,  springing  to  the  floor  and  walking  with  long 
strides  up  and  down  the  room,  throwing  himself  first 
on  the  couch,  then  on  the  bed,  and  then  sinking  into 
a  moment's  silence,  only  to  renew  the  struggle  again. 
I  was  frantic  with  grief.  At  last,  with  a  great  cry,  he 
threw  himself  down  on  his  bed,  and  slowly  the  purple 
shadow  crept  over  his  face — a  long,  sobbing  sign,  and 
all  was  over.  I  threw  myself  across  his  breast  and 
only  felt  a  passionate  desire  to  die,  too. 

I  lay  half  unconscious,  making  no  note  of  time.  I 
heard  some  one  enter  the  room  and  remove  some  arti- 
cles of  furniture  and  go  out  again.  At  last  I  rose  to 
my  feet  and  uncovered  my  eyes,  so  hot  and  dry.  The 
first  thing  that  met  my  gaze  was  a  white  cloth  thrown 
over  the  high  mirror  that  hung  over  the  bureau  in 
the  corner  of  the  room.  Like  a  revelation  I  saw  the 
literal  fulfillment  of  my  old  prophetic  vision.  The 
bed  clothing  had  been  taken  away  from  the  couch; 
there  it  stood,  square,  upright  at  both  ends,  covered 
all  over  with  the  smooth,  black  leather  cushioning. 
The  uncanopied  bedposts  were  within  an  inch  of  the 
ceiling.  The  fireplace  was  beyond  the  lounge.  A 
door  was  at  my  right  hand  in  the  wall ;  at  the  foot  of 
the  bed  was  another.  Close  in  the  corner  stood  the 
bed,  and  on  it  lay  the  idol  of  my  life— all  as  I  saw  it 
in  my  dream  in  March,  1861.  The  fulfillment  was  in 
December,  1863. 

When  I  first  met  my  father  I  asked  him  if  he  had^ 
thought  much  of  me  while  in  prison.  "Yes,"  was  his] 
reply,  "but  Alex  always  seemed  to  be  in  my  mind.' 
Whether  asleep  or  awake,  he  was  near  me,  it  seemed." 

God  works  by  physical  laws  for  all  things  visible.    I 
He  sends  His  kindly  ministers,  the  sun,  the  wind,  the 
showers,  the  healing  dew  in  the  long  drouth,  the  cool- 
ing breeze  on  the  hot  day.     Is  He  less  able  to  work 
by  hidden  laws?    Who  shall  say  I  have  not  a  right  to 


THE  VISION  FULFILLED.  67 

claim  I  was  miraculously  led  to  my  father's  aid? 
Otherwise  he  would  have  died  neglected,  his  soul  dark- 
ened in  death  with  doubts  of  divine  providence. 

Only  a  month  before  my  brother  was  killed  his 
desire  to  see  our  dear  old  father  was  expressed  to  me 
in  the  strongest  terms.  Why  should  I  not  believe  that 
the  spirit  freed  from  the  limitations  of  flesh  sought 
cur  father,  found  his  condition,  and  impressed  my 
mind  with  it,  causing  me  to  seek  him?  My  singu- 
larly prophetic  vision  was  long  before  my  mental  dis- 
tress begau,  which  was  not  until  after  my  father's 
imprisonment  and  some  weeks  after  my  brother's 
death.  Had  I  heeded  the  monitions  of  the  unseen  that 
fil'ed  my  heart  with  dread  I  would  have  sped  to  aid 
him  in  his  imprisonment,  and,  perhaps,  have  saved 
his  life.  God  knows,  He  only!  I  question  not  His 
mercy.  I  bless  Him  daily  that  He  brought  me  to  my 
father's  aid  and  gave  to  me  the  privilege  of  being  his 
last  earthly  comfort  as  his  soul  floated  out  into  the 
unknown  dark. 

I  cannot  better  close  this  chapter  than  by  giving  a 
little  poem,  written  years  ago,  expressing  the  tender 
affection  that  existed  between  my  father  and  myself: 


6S 


MY  FATHER'S  LOVE. 


MY  FATHER'S  LOVE. 

My  childhood  days  were  motherless, 

Lone  and  strange  beyond  compare; 
But  for  my  father's  tender  love, 

Too  hard  for  any  child  to  bear. 
Whene'er  I  took  my  good-night  kiss 

I  always  made  this  childish  plea: 
"Dear  father,  while  you  lie  awake, 

I  beg  you'll  turn  your  face  to  me." 
He  never  laughed,  but,  grave  and  calm, 

Looked  down  with  eyes  of  tenderest  blue, 
And  answered  thus:     "My  little  lamb, 

My  face  is  always  turned  to  you." 

This  was  my  type  of  heavenly  love. 

I  drew  the  childish  inference  then: 
"If  thus  my  earthly  father  feels, 

How  must  God  love  the  sons  of  men!" 
No  after  faith,  no  learned  lore, 

Could  shake  my  trust  so  firm  and  free. 
Though  oft  my  heart  was  sick  and  sore, 

I  felt  God's  love  was  turned  to  me. 
Though  long  years  their  race  have  run, 

My  firm,  unwavering  trust  in  thee 
Still  bids  me  pray  as  I  have  done, 

"Oh!  Father,  turn  Thy  face  to  me." 


M 


WAK  TIME  REMINISCENCES.  69 


XII. 

R.  HENDERSON  OWEN  came  to  me,  after 
hearing  cf  my  trouble,  and  in  my  sore  dis- 
tress he  proved  indeed  a  friend.  Deter- 
mined that  my  father  should  not  be  buried  in  the 
prison  burying  ground,  Mr.  Owen  and  others  secured 
a  place  in  Elmwood  and  I  paid  $15  for  the  opening. 
I  had  not  seen  the  grave,  having  left  all  to  Mr.  Owen 's 
discretion,  as  I  was  ill  with  fatigue  and  anxiety. 

With  my  friends  and  children  occupying  two  car- 
riages, we  started  to  the  graveyard.  On  Second  street, 
between  Poplar  and  Jefferson,  to  our  horror,  we  were 
stopped  by  a  squad  of  Federal  soldiers,  and  without 
a  word  they  loosed  the  horses  from  the  three  con- 
veyances as  fast  as  they  could  do  so.  To  Mr.  Owen's 
earnest  pleadings,  all  we  could  get  in  the  way  of  in- 
formation was:  "An  order  has  been  issued  by  the 
commanding  officer  that  every  horse  is  to  be  seized,  no 
matter  where  or  how  engaged;  a  raid  from  Forrest 
is  expected." 

Of  course,  the  order  had  nothing  to  do  with  me  or 
mine,  especially  as  the  soldiers  said  they  had  no  dis- 
cretion to  exercise.     The  order  was  to  "seize  every 
horse."    The  Federals  were  always  in  expectation  of  a 
raid  from  the  ubiquitous  Forrest,  and  he  held  them  in 
i  terror  as  long  as  he  kept  the  saddle. 
■Mr.  Owen  went  immediately  to  headquarters  and 
^secured  a  permit  to  have  the  body  conveyed  to  Elm- 
'wood,  on  condition  that  he  returned  as  soon  as  possi- 
'  ble  and  saw  the  horses  restored  to  the  authorities.    He 
went  out  and  deposited  the  body  in  the  receiving  vault 
and  rode  back  with  the  driver,  we,  in  the  meantime, 
returning  to  our  homes  on  foot. 


70  WAR   TIME   REMINISCENCES. 

This  was  in  December  of  1S63.  Five  days  after  I 
went  out  and  had  the  body  buried.  "We  left  Memphis 
and  I  did  not  again  return  for  many  years;  then  so 
many  changes  had  been  made  in  Elmwood  that  I 
never  could  find  the  grave.  Roads  had  been  changed, 
the  vault  removed,  and  every  trace  of  the  grave  had 
vanished ;  and,  strange  to  say,  no  record  of  the  burial 
could  be  found  on  the  books.  I  nor  any  one  living 
knows  where  his  body  lies. 

My  brother,  who  served  faithfully  through  the  four 
fateful  years,  died,  and  my  father's  name  died  with 
him  in  the  masculine  line  of  our  branch. 

In  the  two  years  that  followed  my  father's  death 
I  shared  with  the  residents  of  Memphis  the  humilia- 
tion forced  upon  a  conquered  and  helpless  people. 
"While  in  attendance  on  my  father,  owing  to  the  fact 
that  I  had  just  crossed  the  lines,  I  was  an  object  of 
suspicion  and  hate  to  a  lieutenant  on  General  Veatch's 
staff,  who  had  been  instrumental  in  my  father's  ar-v 
rest ;  nor  could  I  convince  this  man  that  I  was  not  in 
some  way  acting  in  collusion  with  him  in  some  scheme 
detrimental  to  the  Union  cause. 

My  young  son  fell  in  with,  or  was  sought  out  by, 
a  youth  somewhat  older  than  he.  They  became  quite 
friendly,  and  he  was  often  in  our  room.  Utterly  un- 
suspicious, the  children  talked  freely  to  this  boy.  In- 
nocent of  any  evil  intentions,  I  was  absorbed  in  my', 
own  grief.  My  husband,  a  Union  man,  had  long  since  3 
returned  to  New  York,  and  owing  to  the  heavy  drain"^ 
on  my  limited  resources  during  my  father's  illness, 
was  in  truly  a  wretched  condition  of  doubt  and  uncer? 
tainty. 

One  day  I  was  summoned  before  the  Federal  an 
thorities.  On  entering  the  room  of  the  lieutenant  I 
found  him  seated  by  a  table,  on  which  lay  two  pistols 
and  an  outspread  Union  flag  from  which  a  number  of 
stars  had  been  cut.     My  heart  sank,  for  I  knew  it, 


WAR  TIME  REMINISCENCES.  71 

and  supposed  it  was  in  my  trunk  in  my  room.    The 
following  conversation  took  place: 

"Madam,"  said  the  man,  sternly,  "do  you  recognize 
this  flag?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  was  my  reply. 

"Why  has  it  been  thus  desecrated,  by  mutilation  of 
the  field?" 

"I  used  it  to  dress  dolls  with,  and  I  cut  out  eleven 
of  the  stars  to  put  on  the  crowns  worn  by  young  girls, 
representing  eleven  States  of  the  Confederacy." 

He  stamped  his  foot  in  angry  vehemence.  "For 
what  purpose  was  this  done?  Do  not  use  that  word 
'Confederacy'  again!" 

"To  raise  money  in  aid  of  the  Rebel  cause,  sir." 

"From  what  source  did  you  obtain  so  handsome  a 
flag?" 

"It  was  given  by  the  ladies  of  our  town  to  a  militia 
company  of  'Light  Guards,'  and  I  was  chosen  to  pre- 
sent it  to  them  when  a  girl.  When  the  war  began  the 
ladies  presented  them  a  Rebel  banner.  I  put  it  on  the 
old  staff,  using  the  cord  and  tassel,  and  when  my 
work  was  done  the  young  men  gave  me  the  Union 
flag.  Most  of  them  have  been  killed,  and  I  cherish 
the  old  banner  for  that  reason." 
,  •  "Are  these  pistols  yours ?  Where  did  you  get  them, 
and  what  are  you  doing  with  them  ? ' ' 

•I  could  not  help  smiling,  and  it  made  him  furious 
when  I  asked :  "How  in  this  world  did  you  get  them, 
anyway  ? ' ' 

$r   "No  remarks,  madam;   answer  my  question  and 
j€top  using  that  word  'Rebels'  with  such  emphasis." 

"I  brought  them  with  me  from  Alabama.  One  we 
'had  at  home  and  I  put  it  in  my  trunk ;  the  small  one 
was  given  me  by  my  nephew  when  he  left  home,  and  I 
have  carried  it  in  my  pocket  until  since  my  father's 
burial.  How  did  they  come  into  your  possession,  lieu- 
tenant?    I  hate  to  think  there  are  spies  and  thieves 


72  '  ADDENDA. 

in  the  house  when  I  thought    they    were    all    my  . 
friends." 

"That  is  not  the  question.  What  did  you  propose 
to  do  with  them?" 

"I  own  them,  sir;  I  had  no  definite  purpose  con- .  _ 
cerning  them.    Will  you  let  me  have  them?" 

"No,  madam,  they  are  confiscated.  You  can  go, 
and  be  careful  how  you  express  yourself  hereafter 
about  the  Union  cause  and  the  Federal  authorities." 

I  bowed  myself  out,  and  on  the  stairs  I  met  the 
young  dog  who  had  been  the  spy  and  thief  infesting 
my  room  under  the  guise  of  friendship  for  the  lonely 
boy  who  trusted  him. 

I  have  had  experience  in  Memphis,  Mobile  and  New 
Orleans  during  the  years  of  reconstruction  and  know 
all  of  its  horrors  and  bitterness.  At  one  time  our 
Governor,  half  our  Legislature  and  our  school  super- 
intendant  in  New  Orleans  were  all  negroes.  The  re- 
volt of  the  14th  of  September,  in  which  the  citizens 
threw  off  the  terrible  yoke,  ended  much  of  our  trou- 
ble, and  a  new  era  of  prosperity  began,  and  the  whole 
South  roused  like  a  giant  from  its  humiliation  and  'V 
almost  despair.  - .  y' 

- 

These  letters  comprising  this  little  book  were  written  Oi 
government  claim  while  living  in  the  Territory  of  Washing 
my  only  companion  my  young  son  of  fourteen,  and  my  nearest,' 
neighbor  a  mile  away.    I  gave  them  to  a  friend  who  published 
them  in  a  small  magazine  in  New  Orleans  nearly  fifteen  yeai 
ago.     Friends  here  have  accepted  and  published  them  in  ^ 
interest  of  Shiloh  Memorial  and  others  of  like  character.  ^ 

This  little  addenda  forestalls  the  need  of  Preface. 


